


Shattered Minds and Broken Souls

by SunflowersSammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Broken Dean Winchester, Broken Sam Winchester, Codependency, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Delusions, Denying Medication, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucifer, Hallucinations, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempts, John Winchester - Freeform, M/M, Mary Campbell - Freeform, Mary Winchester - Freeform, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospital, POV Third Person Omniscient, Panic Attacks, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Sam's schizophrenia is puberty onset, Schizophrenia, Service Dogs, Slow Burn, Started when he was about 14, Virgin Sam Winchester, decently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 100,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowersSammy/pseuds/SunflowersSammy
Summary: Dean Winchester, 22, and Sam Campbell, 18, find themselves both as residents of Firestone Psychiatric Facility in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean's been neglected by his father since his mother died when he was four and Sam was a normal teenager with a set plan for his life until he hit puberty and began to see, hear, feel, and believe things that weren't there, that weren't real. They're both broken beyond repair. This is a story two young men who just happen to fall in love despite their worlds and their minds constantly working against them. It is full of hardships, healing, and codependency.(Not an Unrelated!Wincest fic.)





	1. Firestone Psychiatric Facility

**Author's Note:**

> So to begin, I do not nor have I ever had schizophrenia but I am a nursing student and have extensively researched everything I possibly can about it as well as reaching out to and speaking to people in my own life who have schizophrenia. Sam has undifferentiated schizophrenia. If something is incorrect, please just shoot me a polite message and I will confirm and change it. 
> 
> Anytime sentences are in italics, it is something only Sam can hear. Anything Lucifer does or says is something only Sam can see/hear/feel/smell/etc. Any pain Sam feels is very real to him but it is psychosomatic. It is implied that Sam can always hear voices but I will only be including in the writing the things he hears that have an impact on his actions. Unless explicitly stated, Sam is always hearing things. (He has short lapses in the voices on rare occasions when he is extremely distracted by something else which I have found to be accurate in my research.) 
> 
> This is going to be pretty angsty but it ends happily. I will hopefully be updating multiple times per week (but at least once per week). But like I said, I'm a nursing student so I'm quite busy. (And the art is by me as well.)

Sam walked into the main gathering area of Firestone Psychiatric Facility after the nurse had performed a skin check on him. He hesitated by the edge of the room, looking around quietly and trying his best to ignore the searing heat of Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder. He absolutely didn’t want to be here.

_“Everyone here thinks you’re a freak. Everyone is staring at you. These people are fucked up but you, you’re the most fucked up one here by far,”_ came Lucifer’s voice in his ear. The world around Sam started to spin as he began to get overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the room, which in reality was only about fifteen people, three of which were staff. He blinked a few times, trying to focus on something, anything, and he caught the eyes of a pretty, green-eyed, young man sitting in the corner of the room all alone, away from anyone else. 

Dean was sitting on the sill of the window, his arms resting on his knees and until this new patient had walked in, his gaze had been distant and he had been completely zoned out, dissociating from the world around him. He had been brought back to reality and looked up at the sound of the nurse's footsteps and suddenly, he was locking eyes with a teenager. This kid, he was so incredibly young. Too young to be here in an adult inpatient facility. Dean held his gaze for a few moments before he turned his attention back out the window to watch the wind blowing the leaves on the trees once again. It was late May and spring was nearly over so it was starting to heat up outside but Dean could only assume that the breeze outside would make it a very nice day. Not a nice day to be admitted to the inpatient ward of the hospital.

The nurse introduced Sam to a few of the staff members, an aide taking his vitals before he was led back down the hall to the room that he would be sharing with a roommate. He glanced around the little room. Two twin beds, a window with bars over it, a little shelf-closet combo. It wasn't horrible. That didn't prevent Lucifer from walking around the room in front of Sam and critiquing it as Sam attempted to ignore him, weakly thanking the nurse before he went to curl up in the bed closest to the door; the other bed, while unoccupied, was clearly claimed considering the possessions laying on it. When the nurse had left and no one was around to distract Sam, Lucifer moved to sit beside him on the bed, speaking quietly to him.

_“Mom doesn’t want you anymore. That’s why she shoved you in this place. Everyone you care about leaves you, Sam. Your dad never wanted you. All your friends left you. Mom left you. I’m the only one that’s still here. I’ll never leave you,”_ Lucifer reassured as he let his burning hot fingers brush over Sam’s forearm, causing Sam to cry out in pain as tears bubbled up in his eyes.

“Leave me alone,” Sam breathed out shakily, closing his eyes as a few tears slipped down his face, sliding over the bridge of his nose to ultimately fall down onto the clean bed linens. He stayed there, just listening to Lucifer’s words and the other whispers in his mind for hours until finally, a nurse walked back in to bring him to dinner, pulling Sam somewhat back to reality.

Sam followed her with Lucifer staying close beside them. When he had gotten his tray of food and his plastic fork, he moved to stand near the door of the cafeteria, looking over the few tables that were there. All of them were filled with at least one person, sometimes more. He felt like he was a freshman again, looking for somewhere to sit in the cafeteria and anxiety was starting to build because he didn't know where he could sit without bothering someone.

_“Well, well, well, looks like you’re going to have to sit on the floor. I bet no one wants to sit with you, Sam. They’ll be put off their dinner, hm. No one is going to want to sit with you--”_ Lucifer was interrupted though as that green-eyed boy from earlier caught Sam’s eyes again.

Dean was sitting at a table in the back corner of the room, pushing his food around on his tray with his plastic spoon when he looked up and accidentally caught that one boy’s eyes again. He hesitated for a long while, his lips parting just the slightest bit as he finally lifted his hand to motion for Sam to come over to the table. He wasn't sure why he was doing this but he was, even though he had never let anyone sit with him before in the three months he had been there.

_“He pities you. He doesn't want you to sit with him. He’s just showing pity. You don’t want his pity, do you? You don’t need his pity.”_

 Sam was a little taken aback and he walked over very slowly, frowning at the boy. “What do you want from me? I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly, a little bit harshly as he set his tray down roughly on the table, Dean frowning up at him and meeting his eyes again.

 Up close, Sam thought his eyes might even be more beautiful and despite how pale (which made his freckles stand out beautifully) and exhausted this man looked, Sam could tell he was truly a man that could be considered ‘pretty.’ That was a weird thought.

“I was just.. You looked a little lost. I thought you might want to sit here. It’s whatever though,” Dean muttered out with a half shrug as he took a few peas onto his spoon and ate them slowly, not looking back up at Sam.

 “Thanks,” Sam said hesitantly as he pulled out the chair. He didn’t believe this man; Sam didn’t believe that he didn’t pity him but he did need somewhere to sit. He didn’t want to have to deal with finding somewhere else to sit. As he raised a bite of food to his mouth silently, Lucifer spoke loudly, panicked, once again, _“Sam, it’s poisoned! You’re going to kill yourself. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”_  

Sam dropped the fork and it hit the tray again, prompting Dean to look up from his own food. “Are you okay?” He asked hesitantly as he looked at Sam, only getting a nod in return. “Are you sure?”

“The food. It’s.. they want to kill me, freaks like me. It’s poisoned,” Sam whispered out after a long moment of silence. Something about the earnest look in this boy’s eyes made him admit something he wasn’t normally open to admitting. 

“It’s not poisoned,” Dean replied quietly as he took another small bite of his peas. “Look, see?” He asked after he had swallowed. “Not poisoned. I’ve been eating this food for over three months now and unfortunately, I’m still alive.”

“Unfortunately?” Sam asked, changing the subject away from the food as he looked at the older boy. “And it doesn't matter if it didn't kill you.. It's going to kill me. It.. They put it in my food. They don't want to deal with me either,” he added shakily before Dean could answer the previous question.

Dean pursed his lips as he glanced around them, making sure no staff was looking before he scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes mixed with peas from Sam's tray, eating them and then just looking at Sam. “See? Not poisoned. I swear.” 

_“What an idiot. He just poisoned himself. He's going to die now.. He's going to leave just like everyone else.”_

“Why are you eating with a spoon?” Sam asked as he looked down at his own tray, forcing through the echos in his mind. He knew he needed to eat. He picked up the fork again, very slowly placing a bite into his mouth and swallowing it before he spoke again. “It’s hard to eat chicken with a spoon..” 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean replied with a slight sigh. “They, uh, they won’t let me have a fork. It’s sharp and I’m considered.. a danger to myself. I tried some shit on my first week here and now I’m not allowed to have a fork because they think I'll try to hurt myself with it for a second time,” he admitted quietly as he set the spoon down. “They even have to verify that I throw the spoon out at the end of meals. Like I could hurt myself with a fucking plastic spoon.”

_“If he can’t refrain from hurting himself, what makes you think he won’t hurt you? He’s going to hurt you, Sam. He’s going to hurt you. Don't let him near you. Don't let him touch you.”_

As all the voices got louder and louder, overwhelming in Sam’s head, his heart began to pound in his chest and he stood up quickly, shoving the table away and taking a step back. “Don't touch me,” he said quickly, his voice clearly panicked.

 “Hey, woah, I didn't touch you. Kid, hey, I didn't touch you. Are you okay?” Dean asked hesitantly but just as rushed as he looked up at Sam with a concerned expression gracing his features. “Look, hey, I’m Dean by the way. I didn’t.. What did I say or do? I didn't.. Fuck, I didn't mean to upset you.”

_“He’s going to hurt you.”_

 Sam heard the words Dean was saying but he didn’t process them in full, his breathing starting to become rapid and then suddenly he was taking steps backward and causing his back to hit the wall; he slid down it as the room began to spin, his vision getting blurry as tears began to stream down his cheeks. The whole world was becoming just voices, just burning pain, and his chest was so tight he felt like his heart was going to break through his sternum and ribs.

“I’m sorry,” Sam heard Dean say as a nurse knelt down beside Sam, handing him an alprazolam pill and helping him raise it to his mouth, giving him a sip of water to swallow it with. He coughed and sputtered but the pill went down despite the resistance from his body. The world continued to spin around him, making him dizzy and nauseous but over the next ten minutes, he slowly calmed down. When he was mostly back to reality, he opened his eyes and looked around the room, the green-eyed boy, ‘Dean’ he had called himself, was gone, his tray cleared from the table. For some reason, Sam kind of wished he was still there, despite the still swirling thoughts and voices trying to convince him that Dean would hurt him.

 

* * *

 

Dean had returned to his room, the one across the hall from Sam’s, and found himself sitting on the bed, still in the borrowed hospital clothes that looked like white scrubs that he always wore. He had been forced into the facility on a moment’s notice when John had decided he wasn’t going to put up with Dean anymore after Dean’s last suicide attempt and so he didn’t have any clothes, unlike Sam, who had brought a suitcase of clothes that Mary had packed for him before she had had Sam admitted.

Dean was sitting crisscrossed on the bed, staring at the stark white sheets, and getting lost in his head. He had done something to hurt that kid, to cause him to have a panic attack, and god, Dean felt so guilty about it. He still didn’t even know the kid’s name but for some reason, he was drawn to him and so that guilt was even stronger than it was normally. All he knew was that he wanted this kid to get better.

 

* * *

 

Sam was helped up from the floor once he had calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings and one of the aides led him back to his room slowly. He glanced into the room across the hall from his fleetingly before he walked into the room, noting mentally that that was Dean’s room that was across from his. Not that it mattered for any reason.

He moved to sit down on his bed with the aide’s help, grabbing the blanket and draping it around his shoulders as his gaze dropped to the floor, the aide leaving. What he wasn’t expecting was that about ten minutes after he had returned to his room, Dean walked in with his hesitancy very clear.

“Your name’s Sam,” Dean started quietly, having read the plaque on the door that had the first names of the two people in the room on it. “I’m Dean. I know.. I know I mentioned it early but you were a little out of it and I wanted to reintroduce myself and say that I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I did to upset you but I’m so fucking sorry, man.”

_“It’s not his fault. It’s yours. If you weren’t so fucked up, he wouldn't want to hurt you. He’s here, all alone with you so that he can hurt you.”_

Sam glanced up from the floor, scooting towards the far side of the bed so he was as far away from Dean as possible. Eventually, he met Dean’s eyes with his lips slightly parted as he just looked at him for a solid few seconds before he finally whispered, “it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“Your fault? Dude, you had a panic attack. That’s not your fault,” Dean reassured though he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow sigh. “It was obviously mine but I’m sorry, really. I am. Could you maybe tell me what I did that freaked you out? I want to make sure I don’t do it again.”

“You.. You didn’t do anything,” Sam said quietly as he brought his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees as Dean crouched down by the edge of the bed and while Sam knew he should get away, that this boy was going to hurt him, he couldn’t find the strength to get up. “It’s my fault. I’m fucked up. That’s why you want to hurt me." 

Dean fell silent at that, more just shocked than anything else. He stayed quiet, looking at Sam silently for a short while before he finally found his voice and words again and spoke. “I’m not going to hurt you. I.. I was trying to be nice. You looked lost at dinner and I figured you needed somewhere to sit. I wouldn’t just invite you over to hurt you. I wanted to be your friend.”

“I don’t need friends in this place; I’m not going to be here for very long,” Sam said immediately. “I’m getting out before I start my senior year and probably even before that so I don’t need friends in this place.”

“Your senior year.. of high school? How old are you?” Dean asked with a small frown on his lips. “This is an adult facility..”

“Good thing I'm an adult then,” Sam replied snarkily in a quiet grumble, casting his gaze away from Dean. “I turned eighteen three weeks ago,” he clarified with a shaky sigh, pushing his fingers through his already messy, brown hair. “I'm going to be a senior in August. I’m going to graduate and go to Stanford Law School. I’m going to be a lawyer.”

“God, you’re only eighteen,” Dean repeated with a sad undertone to his voice because Sam was so young, younger than he'd even thought initially, and to be checked into an intense inpatient psychiatric facility.. Dean could only hope that this kid recovered. Sam had a whole life ahead of him and it sounded like he already had it all planned out. “I'm.. I'm really sorry. I really hope you get better.”

_“He doesn't want you to get better. He knows you're too fucked up to ever get better,”_ Lucifer whispered to him, grabbing Sam's arm and causing him to cry out in pain because it felt like his skin was burning under Lucifer's hand. _“He’s pitying you.”_

Dean furrowed his eyebrows at the clearly pained sound, not thinking before he reached out to touch Sam's hand, his touch extremely gentle and a stark contrast to the searing pain from Lucifer's touch. 

_“He's going to hurt you!”_

 Despite how nice the little touch felt on his arm and how much he craved it because he hadn't been touched in a gentle way in a long time, he jerked his arm away from Dean’s hand. “Leave me alone,” he breathed out shakily. “Go. Get out.”

Dean mumbled out an apology before he stood up and quickly left the room because he didn’t want to cause Sam to have a second panic attack that night. He entered his room, going to brush his teeth and just trying to put together what could possibly be going on with Sam. He could figure out the paranoia, based on Sam's panic about dinner, but Sam seemed to be in pain just then and Dean didn't know what that could be. Then again, he wasn’t a doctor. He hadn’t even graduated high school so he wasn’t exactly meant to be diagnosing this kid.

When Dean was out of the room, the pain began to stop as Lucifer let go of his arm. “Lucifer, stop,” Sam begged until finally the pain had subsided and he took a deep breath, getting up to go and get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth, putting his pajamas that Mary had packed him on before going to the bathroom and then clambering into bed, trying his best to get some sleep.


	2. Amidst the Chaos

****Before Sam had woken up that morning, Mary had come by and dropped off some of his favorite books and the small journal he always wrote his thoughts and feelings in, things that she had forgotten to pack for him. When he woke up and they were resting on the bedside table, a nurse having placed them there, he smiled just the slightest bit to himself, picking up one of the books and flipping through it before he was told to get dressed and then brought to breakfast.  
  
Sam found himself skimming the cafeteria area, frowning when he didn’t see Dean there because for some reason, even if he was still somewhat terrified of the other boy due to the voices in his head telling him that Dean would hurt him, he still liked Dean’s presence. Regardless, he got himself his food and sat down at the same table he had sat at with Dean the night before. He began to lift his fork, trying his hardest to force himself to put the bite of eggs in his mouth because he knew needed the nutrition, even if the voices were nagging in his mind and telling him it would kill him. Dean had shown him the night before that that wasn’t true and Sam had to keep on repeating that sentiment in his mind but eventually, Lucifer’s words and the screaming of the voices overpowered that thought.

 _“Dean’s not here. He’s dead. He ate the food and now he’s dead. You’re going to die too,”_ Lucifer growled out harshly in Sam’s ear, causing Sam to drop his fork, the eggs luckily only spilling onto the tray and not the table, but then someone was pulling out the chair beside him and sitting down at the table with him.

“Morning, Sam,” Dean said a little hesitantly once Sam had caught his eye, his eyes tired like they had been the night before but somehow, Dean looked even more exhausted now. Dean never slept well and mornings were rough for him. He was in clean hospital clothing and his hair was wet indicating that he had showered. His long-sleeved shirt was a little big so that it came about halfway down his hand, covering his arms completely. Even though Sam had kicked Dean out of his room the night before, Sam sitting at the table was making Dean slightly hopeful that Sam didn’t actually hate him. That was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time: hope. He didn’t hate it.

“Did you sleep okay? I hope you slept well,” Dean added, starting to slowly eat his own cereal and looking over to Sam. “I’m glad you’re eating. You didn’t get to eat much last night because of.. me.” He hadn’t noticed that that was Sam’s first bite and that Sam actually hadn’t eaten anything yet.

“You’re not dead,” Sam stated matter-of-factly as he looked at Dean, lips quirking up in the tiniest of surprised smiles. So Lucifer was wrong for once. Maybe Lucifer was wrong about Dean hurting him too. That was a relieving thought, that Lucifer could be wrong, because to Sam, Lucifer had never been wrong before. Lucifer had told him that his friends would leave and they had; he had told him that Mary would leave and she had stuck him in this place and probably wouldn’t even visit. Lucifer was always right, except for right now. Dean was alive. He sighed quietly, picking his fork back up and raising it to his mouth but not eating it because he couldn’t force himself to yet and so he set the fork back down and didn’t look up as he spoke to Dean again. “Last night, you tasted my food for me. Can you.. do that again?” Sam asked, pushing his tray slightly towards Dean.

 _“What a stupid request. Why the fuck would he want to test your food for you? It’s poisoned. He’s not going to die for you.”_ Before Sam could take back the request, Dean was agreeing to it.

“Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course,” Dean replied rather gently. It was a strange request, yeah, but Dean figured that if it got Sam to eat, he would definitely do it without so much as a second thought. He glanced over at the staff table because none of them should see that he was taking food off another patient’s tray. He pursed his lips and waited until none of them were looking in their direction before he took a small spoonful of Sam’s eggs and ate them before looking to Sam. “Not poisoned. I promise,” he consoled once he had swallowed. “You didn’t answer my question though. How did you sleep?”

“I have nightmares,” Sam admitted quietly as he very slowly began to eat his food once Dean had taste-tested it for him, despite the pushback from the voices. “But I slept okay.. I want to go home. My bed, my room.. I would have slept better there. But my mother doesn’t want me around anymore.”

“I get it,” Dean replied quietly, glad Sam was actually kind of conversing with him. It was nice. He never really talked to anyone in this place, including the staff, therapists, and definitely not the other patients. He hadn’t had a real conversation in a long time. So far all he knew was that Sam had paranoia, suffered from anxiety, and had nightmares, none of which, in his opinion, meant being checked into the hospital. “I don’t sleep much. Definitely not well. It’s tough.”

“Why not? Do you have nightmares too?” Sam asked as he looked up from his food curiously.  

_“Way to ask a too-personal question, Sam. Now he’s going to be pissed you’re trying to get into his business. He’s going to be furious with you. That’s none of your business.”_

“Yeah, I do,” Dean replied as he reached up to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I also have really bad insomnia.. Sleeping.. It’s unfortunately not something that comes easily for me, even though I’m tired twenty-four seven..”

“Can’t they prescribe you some sleeping pills or something?” Sam asked as he took a small sip of his water. “They offered me something to help me sleep last night. I bet if you told them you can’t sleep they would give you something too.”

“Medication.. It isn’t something I want to take, so I don’t take it. I can’t,” Dean said with a small frown as he continued to eat his cereal slowly; it was already getting mushy and gross so he pushed it away just slightly, setting his spoon down. “To me, if I can’t.. if I can’t ‘feel better,’ quote-unquote, on my own then I don’t deserve too.”

“Oh..” Sam said quietly, pushing his eggs around a little bit. “But if it helps you then shouldn’t you take it? It’s just medication. It would help you..”

_“Dean doesn’t take his medication. You can say no to the medications they want to give you. The antipsychotics they’re going to prescribe you. You can say no because you know, deep down, you’re not psychotic. I’m real, Sam.. We’re real, Sam.”_

“I know.. The therapists here have tried to talk me into it hundreds of times. I just can’t do it. I don’t want to. I don’t want to get better if I can’t do it on my own.. Honestly, I don’t want to get better, period.” Dean shrugged, pushing his fingers through his damp hair and avoiding meeting Sam’s eyes momentarily. “But that’s not to say you shouldn’t take it. I think that if it helps you, you definitely need to take medications.”

 _“Stop ignoring me, Samuel. It’s rude.”_  
  
“That’s hypocritical,” Sam pointed out as he glanced over at the chair beside Dean where Lucifer had sat down and was playing with fire, causing Sam’s chest to tighten as he smelled the smoke coming from the flames. “Stop that, Lucifer. You’re going to.. you’re going to burn something. Stop, please,” he begged, taking a deep breath and totally forgetting that he had just been conversing with Dean as panic began to build.

Dean pursed his lips, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip but not saying anything as he let his gaze follow Sam’s to the empty chair beside him. He stayed quiet still though. Paranoia, anxiety, nightmares, and Dean could only assume visual hallucinations now. Dean couldn’t help but wonder what else could be wrong. “Is someone sitting there?” He asked finally, looking back to Sam who looked a little bit pale.

“Uh, yeah. Lucifer.. He’s.. He’s right there. He’s mad because.. because I’m ignoring him,” Sam said as he let out a slow and shaky breath. Dean’s voice had caused him to direct his full attention towards Dean and brought him somewhat back to reality as he tried to ignore the smell of smoke and the fire that he could see despite the fact that his voices were screaming that there was a fire. “Is.. Is there a fire?” For some reason, he trusted that Dean would answer truthfully at the moment, even if the question seemed out of the blue.

Dean winced slightly at that internally; fire wasn’t something he dealt with well. How could he when his mother had been burned alive and he still remembered the sound of her screams? “Uh, no. No fire. They’re careful not to have anything that could be a fire hazard around. Lots of smoke alarms, too..”

_“He’s lying. He wants you to burn alive because you deserve to die in the most painful way possible, Sam.”_

Sam gritted his teeth as he glared daggers over at Lucifer before turning back to Dean and nodding just slightly. “Okay,” he said quietly though he still didn’t really believe it. But Dean would die painfully, too, if there was a fire so Sam thought maybe he wasn’t lying because then they would all be dead, not just him. He forced down another few bites of eggs before looking back at Dean when he heard the chair move and Dean stood up.

“I, uh, I have one-on-one therapy every other day after breakfast at nine fifteen so.. I hope I see you in group in like forty-five minutes,” Dean said quietly, kind of wishing he could just stay here with Sam because he never got anywhere in therapy. Plus, he wasn’t hating sitting here with this kid. He just sat there during therapy anyways, not saying anything while the therapist repeatedly told him that he would never get anywhere if he refused to talk. This, sitting with Sam even if they were sitting in silence, was better than sitting with a therapist in silence. “See you, Sam..”

* * *

 When group therapy came around at ten, Dean had settled himself on the window sill as always before Sam was in the room, the same place he had been when he and Sam had seen one another for the first time during activity time the prior day. He found himself with his head resting against the edge of the window, his gaze steady on the tree outside in the courtyard as his thoughts slowly began to consume him and soon, he was lost to the world as he so often was. He didn’t notice someone silently pull up a chair next to him, dissociating completely so he wasn’t mentally present to the world around him.

Sam sat down carefully instead of going to join the circle that had formed in the middle of the room of all the other patients who were actually going to participate in group therapy. His irrational fear of Dean hurting him, hating him was still there and he certainly wouldn’t consider them friends. All of his friends always left him anyways so why make new ones. Still, he felt more comfortable over here near Dean than in the circle of many people. It was a good balance. Not being all alone but also not being the center of attention in a group of people. He frowned, pulling his legs up onto the chair and holding onto his book tightly as he looked at Dean, desperately wanting to say hello but not being able to bring himself to.

_“You’ll interrupt him. He’s probably thinking about something important. If he wanted to say hello to you, he would have when you pulled up your chair to sit by him. I bet he doesn’t even want you to be sitting here. He’s ignoring you, that’s what he’s doing.”_

Sam’s breath hitched at the words echoing in his head because he didn’t want that; he didn’t want Dean to ignore him. Maybe that wasn’t what was happening. He hoped not. He bit his lip, looking up at Dean and trying to find the courage to say a ‘hello’ once again but he couldn’t and so he just resolved to read instead.

When group was over and everyone started to clear up the chairs that had been brought out, Dean was still completely gone to the world and Sam couldn’t help the nagging feeling that Dean was ignoring him. So he reached out, giving Dean’s shoulder a little nudge with his hand hesitantly that brought Dean back a little too quickly. “Dean?”

“Don’t touch other patients, Sam,” a nurse who had just been passing by said though the look of alarm on Dean’s face stopped her and she walked over, looking to Sam. “Why don’t you go join everyone for some time outside? It’s a beautiful day,” she suggested, a slight frown on her lips.  
_  
_ _“You fucked up. She’s mad at you now. Dean hates you now. You shouldn’t have touched him. What were you thinking, you idiot? He didn’t want to be touched by such a fucking freak.”_

Sam quickly got up as he stuttered out an out an apology, taking his book with him and heading towards the courtyard with the rest of the group but not before he heard the nurse speaking quietly to Dean. “You were dissociating, Dean. You’re alright. Take a short break and adjust before you go join everyone else,” she had said calmly and Sam really wasn’t sure what that was. ‘Dissociating.’ He had never heard the word before and had no clue what it could possibly mean. Did it mean that Dean had been ignoring someone? Because that was what Dean had been doing. Ignoring Sam. At least that was what all of the voices were trying to convince him was true and he absolutely believed the delusion.

Sam found himself sitting under the big tree that Dean had been staring at, glancing at Dean and the nurse through the window and watching as the nurse helped Dean take a few sips of water before she helped him stand up. As far as Sam could tell, Dean seemed to lose his balance a little bit, swaying as he stood up which didn’t make any sense to Sam either.

_“Why are you watching him, you creep? Stop fucking watching him through the window. It’s none of your business what’s going on in there. It has nothing to do with you.”_

“Leave me alone. I’m just worried about him; that’s all,” Sam grumbled out aloud as he turned his attention back to the book as best he could though it was hard considering Lucifer was sitting right there beside him as always.  
  
_“Worried about him? You don’t even know him. You have no reason to be worried about him,”_ Lucifer said with a somewhat dark chuckle. _“He doesn’t worry about you so why should you worry about him? Deal with your own shit before taking on someone else’s.”_

“I don’t know.. He hurts himself. He.. He’s in this facility like I am. He has to be fucked up, at least in some way. I’m allowed to worry about whoever the hell I want though, Lucifer. Shut up,” Sam said as he lifted his head to see Dean again but Dean was gone from his line of sight and so he looked over at Lucifer again, just watching him quietly as Lucifer continued to speak.

Sam’s attention was drawn away from Lucifer when he saw Dean walk over out of the corner of his eye and he looked up when Dean was standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

 _“You’re vulnerable, on the ground here while he stands over you. Get up. You’re putting yourself in a position to get hurt. You’re asking to get your ass kicked.”_  
  
Sam moved to carefully stand up so he and Dean were almost at eye level, though Sam was currently just the slightest bit shorter. He kept his distance from Dean and ran his tongue over his teeth as they both just kind of looked at each other silently for a long while until Sam finally got the courage to speak. “Why were you ignoring me during group? At breakfast, you said you’d see me at group and then even though I was there, sitting near you, you blatantly ignored me the whole time.” He didn’t know that Dean never spoke to anyone in the facility unless forced to though, that he actually ignored other people and that he genuinely hadn’t been ignoring Sam on purpose.

“I.. Wait, you were there the whole time? I’m really sorry, man. I just.. I kind of zone out sometimes. I didn’t even realize you were there,” Dean said quietly, a little bit taken aback by the accusatory tone of Sam’s voice but he figured it was probably his fault. Most things were Dean’s fault at least in Dean’s mind. “I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t know you were there. We can talk now if that’s what you wanted to do during group. Do you mind if I sit with you here?”

“I zone out too sometimes. But for like thirty seconds or a minute at a time.. Not for a whole hour, Dean,” Sam said with a frown as he moved to sit down under the tree again slowly, still a little bit anxious about Dean standing over him until Dean was finally sitting down beside him. “Are you sure you weren’t ignoring me?”

“I wasn’t. I promise,” Dean confirmed as he let out a small sigh, the ground cold and hard and not very comfortable but it wasn’t too horrible. “I’m sorry though. Really, I am. I wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

_“He was. He’s lying. He didn’t want to talk to you, freak. He’s being nice out of pity.”_

“You’re lying,” Sam said flatly as he looked over at the other young man, a small frown on his lips. “You just didn’t want to talk to me that’s why you ignored me.. Because I’m a..- I’m a freak.  You just pity me.”

“Hey, woah, no. No way. You’re absolutely not a freak,” Dean said without a second of hesitation, tilting his head in confusion as he looked over at Sam. “Who’s told you that? Because whoever it is, they’re nuts and more importantly, they’re wrong.”

The lack of hesitation in Dean’s response made the slightest bit of a smile appear on Sam’s lips and he looked over Dean’s features, trying his best to tell if Dean was lying. He looked serious though and like he was being honest. “He tells me all the time,” Sam said finally, nodding to Lucifer who was sitting beside Dean. “He’s always telling me that I’m a freak.. And the other kids at my school started to as well a few years back..”

 _“Why are you telling him this? If he knows everyone else who actually knows you thinks you’re a freak, he’s going to think so too. You don’t want that, now do you? You want him to keep believing the lie that you’re normal.”_  
  
“I am normal. Shut up,” Sam grumbled out under his breath before his gaze moved back to Dean.

“Well, then they’re shitty people,” Dean said without outwardly acknowledging that Sam had also been talking about and to someone who was supposedly sitting there with them, probably because Sam’s little smile had distracted him. Visual hallucinations, auditory hallucinations, paranoia, and anxiety. Dean was definitely starting to figure out why this kid was in this place and for some reason, it was just driving something in him that wanted to help, to help make things better, even if he knew that was unrealistic. “They’re shitty and they’re wrong. You’re not a freak..”

“You don’t know me,” Sam mumbled out in return as he looked back down at the book in his lap, not wanting to look at Dean at the moment. He knew if he and Dean kept talking, Dean would start to agree with Lucifer. Everyone did so why wouldn’t Dean. Everyone realized he was a freak and everyone left him. That was just one more reason not to become friends with Dean.

“No, but I want to,” Dean said seriously as he tilted his head just a bit to the side, watching Sam with a slight frown on his lips. “I know you said you’re getting out soon, before school starts, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be at least friendly with one another until you do get out. It’s lonely in this place.”

_“He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to get close to you and then leave like everyone else just to hurt you even more. He wants to make you worse. He wants to break you more.”_

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Sam said outright without thinking about how it could be taken as offensive without the context in his head. “I don’t need friends and I don’t want to be your friend.”

Dean already never smiled but regardless, his face managed to fall further than normal, going from pretty neutral to a sad frown but he just nodded slowly, pushing himself up from the ground. “Sorry then,” he said quietly, hoping the hurt in his voice didn’t show. He didn’t wait for an answer because he didn’t want to hear one and then he was gone, leaving Lucifer and Sam all alone again.

_“Now he hates you, you fucking idiot. You can’t do anything right. What’s wrong with you?”_

“Dean, wait,” Sam said as he looked up after a moment, a moment that was too long because Dean was already gone. Sam couldn’t help the sinking feeling that began settling in his chest. What if Lucifer was wrong and Dean actually did want to be nice to him? He hadn’t been mean at any point thus far; he hadn’t hurt Sam like Lucifer had suggested. And now Dean was going to hate him. Something in him really wanted Dean’s presence near him again. Dean had a sort of calmness about him and that was something Sam needed amidst the chaos in his mind.


	3. Crush

Dean hated the way something as simple as Sam not wanting to be friends made him feel. It was painful, like someone had punched him in the gut. But as much as he hated that it hurt, it was nice to feel the emotional pain over the overwhelming numbness and emptiness that normally settled inside him. He had lost friend after friend throughout elementary school, middle school, high school; not making a friend should be easier than losing one but for some reason, this hurt more than any of that. He was done trying to be friends with Sam though. He had tried for two days and after hurting Sam on the first day and then being blatantly rejected on the second day, that was enough for him. Sam wasn’t worth it. There was no point in even trying to be friends with Sam anyways. The guy was only 18 and when he got out in August as he had planned, then Dean was never going to see him again and so he resolved to go exactly back to how he had been before Sam had shown up: not talking to anyone and living in his own head. Like nothing had changed, because it hadn’t. He’d just met someone new. No one special.

Unlike Sam, who could likely leave against-medical-advice (AMA), Dean couldn’t, despite desperately wanting to get out of there at this moment in time. With a history of self-destructive and suicidal behavior on top of having outright told the therapists and staff multiple times that the second he was out of there, he’d off himself, he was able to be kept there against his will because he was considered a danger to himself. And they certainly weren’t wrong because he absolutely was. Six suicide attempts in the last four years was a pretty good indicator of that just like the pale, layered scars that littered his body. And he was determined not to live to twenty-three so why bother making any friends. It was for the best that he didn’t become friends with the kid. It was better for both of them.

Dean walked back into the building before Sam had called after him and despite hearing the kid’s words, he ignored them. He headed down the hall to his room, going to sit on the floor of the shower with the water running over him even though he had already bathed that morning. While he couldn’t hurt himself there in the facility like he wanted to, he could turn the water to a temperature that was a little too hot and made his skin feel like it was burning. He left the light off and only spoke a few words to confirm that he was still there and was still alive when a nurse came to check on him every fifteen minutes.

* * *

Sam had gotten up from his position under the tree after a long while of just sitting there feeling guilty because he hadn’t wanted to hurt Dean and he had caught the hurt tone to Dean’s voice. He genuinely hadn’t meant to hurt him but it was better this way, right? Not becoming friends with Dean meant he couldn’t lose another friend and Dean would get over it. It was better for both of them. But the nagging voices in his head were now contradicting what they had been saying earlier, just making him feel more and more guilty and telling him that he shouldn’t have done that; what if Dean had genuinely wanted to be his friend? 

So when Sam did get up, he headed to the room across the hall from his own that he knew was Dean’s, peeking his head inside and frowning because no one was in there. “Dean?” He asked as he glanced around the room, just observing his surroundings. 

One side of the room had possessions scattered around it. Pictures taped to the wall, pajamas on the bed, a notebook and some books on the bedside table. It looked like someone was actually staying there but the day before, Sam had seen Dean on the bed closest to the door and there wasn’t a single item on that side of the room, no pictures, no books, no nothing. Just a neatly made bed and nothing else. Did Dean not bring anything with him when he had been checked in? Sam couldn’t imagine that Dean actually didn’t have anything with him but thinking about it, Dean seemed to only wear the hospital provided clothing to so he wasn’t sure.

“Dean?” He asked again when he heard that the shower was running, louder this time, but he still didn’t get an answer in return so he figured it was Dean’s roommate that was in the shower. He took a deep breath, stepping back out of the room and heading down the hall, back to the main room. As he looked around for Dean, the tightness in his chest only got tighter.  
_   
_ _ “He’s avoiding you. And he has every right to. You basically told him to fuck off. You can’t be mad that that’s exactly what he’s doing.”  _

“He wouldn’t do that,” Sam countered aloud as he glanced over at Lucifer, though he didn’t know that. He didn’t know Dean, not really, but something in him made him feel like Dean wouldn’t do that. But, of course, now the seed of doubt was planted in Sam’s mind and so that was all he could obsess over.

_ “Dean’s avoiding you and it’s all your fault, Sam.”  _

As he sat down on the window sill where Dean had been sitting earlier, he looked out at the tree, just wishing he could rewind time and take back what he had said but unfortunately, that was not how things worked. 

_ “You really fucked up big time, Samantha,” _ Lucifer said as he sat down beside Sam on the sill, leaning back against the glass and smirking.  _ “Bet he hates you now. You’ve given him every reason to.”  _

“Leave. Me. Alone,” Sam growled out as he glared over at Lucifer, tears starting to prickle in his eyes. “I know I fucked up, just leave me alone!”

_ “You want me to leave like everyone else? Luckily, I’m not like everyone else, Sam. I’m not leaving you,” _ Lucifer said calmly as he placed his hand onto Sam’s forearm, causing Sam searing pain in that location and causing him to yelp just slightly as the tears started to slip down his cheeks.  _ “You don’t want me to leave. Then you’ll be all alone forever. I’m your only friend. I’m the only one who won’t leave you. If you keep treating me so badly though, I might leave you too. Just like everyone else.”  _

“No.. No, I don’t want you to leave,” Sam said quickly, letting out a shaky breath and reaching up to roughly wipe the tears from his cheeks. As much as he hated Lucifer, Lucifer was the only one who had been there for Sam consistently for the last few years. He needed someone to always be there, even if it was someone who constantly abused him. “Please don’t leave me too. I’m sorry.” 

“Sam,” a nurse said gently as she moved close to him. “Sam, you need to come with me. It’s time for you to meet with your psychiatrist to see if we can’t get you on some medications to start helping you get better. I know it’s your goal to be out of here by August and if we can get you on the right medley of medications, hopefully, you’ll be out of here before then.” 

_ “They’re going to drug you.”  _

“Well  _ obviously _ they’re going to drug me. That’s what medication is,” Sam replied snarkily as the nurse helped him stand up and walked with him to the psychiatrist's office. 

During that session, Sam was told for the first time ever that Lucifer was not real. His mother and every other therapist he had been to had never told him that flat out. Then again, he had never let on that he was seeing someone and he hadn’t meant to in this session either but speaking to someone who wasn’t there was a bit of a dead giveaway to the psychiatrist.  
  
Still, as he walked out of the office, he didn’t believe the psychiatrists statement about Lucifer or the voices not being real. That was impossible. Sam could very clearly see him. He could very clearly feel his touches and hear him too. He trusted his senses a lot more than he trusted a shrink in a too-tight suit. Lucifer was definitely real; the psychiatrist was wrong. He accepted the medications that the psychiatrist suggested without arguing despite his knowledge that the psychiatrist was wrong however, the nurse’s words echoing in his head. There was a chance he could get out before August and he wanted that more than anything so he would happily take medications he believed he didn’t need to convince the doctors to let him out sooner. 

As Sam walked into the main room of the facility again, an odd sense of relief flooded through him because Dean was there. He had been pushing Dean away but there was still some relief in seeing Dean alive after not being able to find him earlier. He didn’t say anything though, just taking a seat by window near Dean again.  
  
Dean glanced over at Sam when he sat down, having not been dissociating at the moment as he had personally just recently sat down. He also didn’t say anything though because Sam had been very clear that they weren’t friends so why bother conversing. He let his head rest back against the edge of the window, one leg up on the sill but the other on the ground unlike his normal position of them both being up on the sill.   
  
And so they just sat there, not speaking until a nurse escorted everyone to the cafeteria for lunch. 

When Dean sat down at his regular table, Sam sat down beside him like he had for breakfast. He picked up the sandwich that he had grabbed and just holding onto it because he couldn’t bring himself to eat it. He wished he could ask Dean to test it like Dean had been but they weren’t friends so why would Dean do that for him.

Dean watched Sam with a sad frown resting on his lips as he hesitantly reached over to take it from Sam’s hands, their fingers brushing in the process. He took a bite of it when none of the staff was looking and then handed it back silently to the younger man.   
  
Sam smiled just a little bit to himself at Dean’s actions. “Thank you,” he said quietly, a little bit hesitant to speak because they hadn’t spoken since Dean had walked off earlier and he didn’t know what the appropriate level of communication was after what he had said. He fell silent after his thanks, slowly starting to eat his sandwich. It was still hard to get passed his delusion of it being poisoned but Dean trying it for him made it a hell of a lot easier.

They ate their lunch in silence, Dean getting up and clearing everything he hadn’t eaten off of his tray, which was more than half of it, near the end of lunch and despite knowing it was a bad idea, he returned to the table and sat back down beside Sam. “I don’t know what I did to hurt you yesterday but can you please tell me? You said something about me hurting you. I don’t know what I did to make you think that,” he said out-of-the-blue when he had sat down. “But I don’t want to do it again.” 

Sam glanced up from his food, meeting Dean’s eyes and just looking at him for a few seconds before he swallowed hard. “You.. You can’t refrain from hurting yourself, why.. why would you be able to refrain from hurting me?” He asked hesitantly. “You said you hurt yourself..” 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Dean said with a small sigh, reaching up to push his fingers through his hair and letting his elbows then rest on the table as he rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially you, Sam.” 

_ “You’re nothing special, Sam. You’re just a fucking freak. He should hurt you. You would probably deserve it.”  _

“Especially me?” Sam asked quietly as he brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them close. “Why not me especially? I’m nothing special. I’m just.. a freak.”

“You’re not a freak, Sam. You keep saying that but you’re not. If anything, you’re sick and you’re going to get better. But you’re not a freak,” Dean said with a small frown resting on his lips. “Anyone who tells you that is wrong. And you know what, you  _ are _ special. Maybe not to most people but I haven’t.. I haven’t spoken to anyone since I got into this place and I actually talk to you. That’s special, at least in my opinion.” 

_ “So he agrees that you’re sick in the head, freak.” _

“You haven’t spoken to anyone?” Sam asked as he let his chin rest down on his knee, watching Dean closely to try and see if he was lying. Something about the words made something warm bloom in Sam’s chest, not the tightness that had been there earlier. “Why not?”

“I’m not good at being social.. I mean, the extent of my social life before I got stuck in here was hooking up with random women every once in a while,” Dean said with a small sigh and shrugging. “But you, I don’t know. You’re different. I think it’s because you’re so young. I wanted.. to learn more about you.”

_ “Learn more about you? You’re boring, Sam. He doesn’t need to learn anything about you. Because if he does, he’ll realize you’re a freak and then he’ll leave just like everyone else.” _

“Hooking up with random women?” Sam asked as he played with a stray thread on his jeans, watching Dean curiously as he ignored the nagging thoughts. “Why would you do that? You’re supposed to have sex with someone you love and care about. Not people you don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know someone for sex to feel good,” Dean replied gently, bringing one leg up onto his chair with him. 

“I don’t know.. I don’t understand that. One of my old friends, Brady, he used to say that maybe I was asexual because I’ve never.. I’ve never wanted sex from anyone,” Sam said with a little frown, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know though. I guess I would probably have to have sex before I figure out if it’s something I want or not.” 

_ “Asexuality isn’t a thing, Sam. You’re just broken. Everybody wants sex.” _

“If it’s not for you then it’s not for you,” Dean said with a slight shrug as he took a small sip of his water. “Nothing wrong with that. And if you end up dating someone, don’t let them pressure you into anything. It’s your body, man.” 

“But no one would ever want to date someone who won’t have sex with them,” Sam said quietly as he shrugged. “No one would want to date me anyways, even if I would have sex with them.” 

“Awe, come on. You’re adorable, Sammy. I’m sure the girls are all over you at school,” Dean pointed out with a little but genuine smile spreading on his face for the first time in a very long time. “You’ll find someone who loves you for you someday, sex or no sex.” 

Sam was so preoccupied with how beautiful a smile looked on Dean’s lips that he didn’t even notice the nickname Dean had given him or the words Dean was saying and for some reason, his heart rate picked up just a little bit (not in the normal, anxious way) and a little smile found its way onto his own lips as he looked at Dean. This couldn’t be what he thought it was; he wasn’t attracted to guys. But Dean, there was something special about Dean that was making him feel this way. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sam is not asexual; he is demisexual and just hasn't gotten emotionally close enough to anyone to discover that yet. Also, Lucifer's views on asexuality are not my own, obviously.


	4. Don't Panic

“Sam?” Dean asked gently, reaching to nudge Sam’s arm just slightly and causing Sam to jerk his arm away as an immediate reflex. Dean dropped his hand and licked his lips unknowingly, tilting his head at Sam just slightly. “Sorry. Are you alright? You zoned out,” he said gently, the concern clear in his voice. It was strange, how much he cared for this kid, even though Sam had explicitly told him that they wouldn’t be friends. It was also strange to him that they were still talking to one another but Dean wasn’t complaining.

_“You idiot. Now he thinks you’re totally loopy in the head.”_

“Hm? Yeah, I’m totally fine,” Sam said quickly, flashing Dean another little smile. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed because Dean was no longer smiling and Sam wanted to see him smile again. “What were you saying?”

“I said I’m sure you’ll find someone who loves you, regardless of if you want to have sex with them or not,” Dean said calmly as he continued to watch Sam with a little concerned from on his lips. “So what were you thinking about just then? You obviously don’t have to tell me but I’m curious.”

“That’s none of your business,” Sam said quickly, his heart still pounding in his chest hard but he dropped the subject as quickly as possible. It was definitely a crush and he did not need that in his life right now. He needed to get out of this place, go back to school, be normal. He definitely didn’t need to be gay on top of everything else.

 _“Don’t let him know about your little crush, Samantha. Don’t want him to think you’re a fag, right?”_ Lucifer asked, kicking his feet up onto the table and smirking at Sam. _“‘Cause that’s what you are now that you’re into a guy. A fag. Man, you couldn’t have been fucked up enough already, suddenly you’re gay too. You better get over this shit quickly.”_

Panic began to build in Sam’s chest again and he started to breathe a little bit heavier than normal as Lucifer’s words started to swirl in his mind and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. “Stop it,” he mumbled out weakly as he hugged his knees tighter to his chest. “Stop. It. Lucifer, stop..”

“Hey, Sam,” Dean said firmly, reaching to touch his arm again and not reacting when Sam once again tugged his arm away. “Sam, look at me. Sammy. Over here.”

Sam took a heaving breath and let his eyes focus in on Dean’s, nodding slightly. “I’m okay,” he whispered out quickly. “I’m fine.” He was trying to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince Dean. “I am perfectly fine.” Normally, that would have turned into panic but no, Dean had somehow managed to stop the attack before Sam's thoughts spiraled. 

_“No, you’re not, Sam. You’re not okay. You’re sick in the head. A faggot on top of everything else.”_

“Okay, no, you’re not. How about I take you back to your room?” Dean said calmly, standing up and watching Sam for a moment. “Come on. Get up,” he murmured out softly as Sam very slowly got up.

“Oh.. okay,” Sam said with a tremble in his voice as he followed Dean out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the rooms. “I think.. I think I need a nap,” he mumbled out as they walked into the room and Sam sat down on the bed slowly. “I’m gonna take a nap.”  
_  
__“Bet you’re going to be smothered in your sleep. By a nurse, by Dean, by the psychiatrist.”_

“Yeah, you do that. Lay down. Take a little break,” Dean said calmly as Sam curled up under the covers and Dean adjusted them over him. “Take a little nap, kid.” For whatever reason, doing something as simple as tucking Sam into bed was making Dean feel.. actually okay inside for once. He just looked at Sam for a moment before turning to leave. “I’ll see you later, Sam.”

“Yeah.. Yeah, I’ll see you around, Dean,” Sam said shakily before Dean was gone, just needing to take some time alone to think because there was no way he could be gay. He wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. He’d developed crushes on girls plenty of times before, kissed a few. He wasn’t gay. This was just.. a fluke. He’d get over it quickly. At least he hoped so.  

* * *

 

The next four days passed surprisingly fast despite Sam and Dean not really talking much. They were still joined at the hip though. They sat together at meals and Dean always tested Sam's food for him before they ate. They sat together in silence during outdoor-activity time, Sam reading and Dean just playing with a leaf or the grass or getting completely lost in his head. It was mostly because of Sam that they hadn't been talking though. While Dean wasn't particularly good at holding conversations, Sam let the ones that Dean did start fizzle out into silence every time and Sam never started the conversations.

Primarily, it was because Sam was majorly conflicted. Dean was being so nice to him, hadn't hurt him in any way. Yeah, Dean had touched his arm a few times and Sam had quickly jerked away from every single touch but it didn't mean the touches weren't really nice and genuinely comforting. And he had confirmed his feelings to himself after hours and hours of thinking about it. He had a crush on Dean and it was definitely a one-time thing because he definitely didn't like guys. But that didn't keep him from gazing at Dean every time Dean had dissociated, trying to count his freckles or memorize the golds among the green in Dean's eyes and it definitely didn't keep him from imagining what Dean's naturally kind of pouty lips would feel like against his own. But of course, he didn't act on any of it.

Today was no different, really, than the last four days. It was shortly after lunch and they'd both already had their therapy appointments for the day. The sun was out despite the fact that some raindrops had been drizzling from the sky. Sam had told Dean he hoped there was a rainbow somewhere for other people to see, even if they weren’t able to see one. It was a good day in Dean's opinion until Sam started to get completely overwhelmed without a distinct trigger.

Sam felt like the air was being sucked out of the room and his breathing got faster and faster, chest feeling like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on it. He had been thinking about his mother and old friends instead of actually reading and the voices had started screaming at him, yelling at him that everyone he cared about, everyone that he loved left him and making him feel like he couldn't breathe. “Dean,” he gasped out, bringing Dean back to reality at the desperate call of his name.

When Dean was fully aware of the world around him again, he noticed that Sam was damn near hyperventilating and he grabbed Sam's forearm without thinking, giving it a little squeeze. “Hey, Sammy. Shh. Look at me. Pay attention to me and breathe in time with me.” He started a steady, deep breathing pattern, using the words, “in,” and “out,” with every breath to guide Sam through it. He hadn’t even noticed his own use of the nickname.

Sam turned as best as he could to Dean and for once, instead of tugging his arm away at the touch, he let it soothe him. He stared at Dean, still breathing a little too heavy as the voices continued and suddenly, he reached, grabbing the front of Dean's clean white hospital clothing, trying to ground himself as much as possible.

“Sam, stop touching another patient,” a nurse called over to them, unaware of the fact that Sam was struggling to keep himself from completely hyperventilating and succumbing to the voices because Sam only looked a little tense, not like he was in trouble.

“It's okay. I'm okay with it for now. Don't intervene,” Dean replied quickly, his free hand moving to rest on Sam's wrist of the hand that was gripping his shirt, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over Sam's radial pulse point. He had to admit it was weird, having Sam's hands on him when Sam had consistently pulled away every other time Dean accidentally touch him but if being honest with himself, it was nice to have someone touching him. He was completely touched-starved after all. “Hey, you're here. You're okay, Sammy. It's just me here. It's just me. Look into my eyes and focus on your breathing.”

Sam's grip tightened on Dean's shirt as he locked eyes with him, trying to map out the colors in them because that had calmed him when he wasn't actually panicking a few times over the past few days. When it didn't work, he started counting, counting the freckles littering Dean's somewhat sickly pale skin and as he breathed in time with Dean. Slowly, he began to calm down, the voices getting gradually more and more quiet until they were at the dull murmur they normally were at and he was just staring at Dean, his breathing calm and controlled but still he had to choke out a, “sorry.”

_“Why are you touching him? Stop fucking touching him, Sam. He doesn't want you to touch him.”_

“Stop apologizing for your panic attacks, kid,” Dean reassured gently, his thumb still slowly rubbing over Sam's pulse point. He could feel his own pulse from his thumb as well as Sam's pulse and eventually as Sam’s heart rate slowed, they faded into one, their hearts beating in time with one another and Dean couldn't help the warmth that spread in his chest. There is something special about Sam and Dean truly wished he could hold Sam close and make everything better, even though he knew how unrealistic that was.

“Sam, you’re going to have to take your hands off of him. Touching other patients isn’t allowed. It’s a matter of making sure no one is harmed,” the nurse from earlier said as she walked over to them. Sam shook his head quickly and clutched the white hospital clothing even tighter, trying to hard to ground himself as he continued to count the freckles scattering Dean’s nose and cheeks. He didn’t even bother to look up at the nurse. Despite the voices telling him that Dean didn’t want Sam touching him, Dean’s soothing rubbing on the underside of his wrist was helping him fight that idea. Dean was touching him back so how could he hate it?

“It’s okay. He’s not harming me. He won’t do it with anyone else. I’ll talk to him about it. Just let him calm himself down,” Dean said calmly as he looked up at the nurse, his eyes somewhat pleading because he knew Sam needed this, that Sam was using touching Dean to ground himself or something like that and he definitely didn’t want to force Sam’s hands off of him, even if it was hospital policy. He had a feeling pushing Sam away would just start the panic again.

“Just this once,” the nurse agreed with a slight frown on her lips. “I’m going to go grab his alprazolam, xanax, so if he still needs it by the time I’m back, it’ll be here.”

Dean managed a nod before he was looking back to Sam, his hand moving from Sam’s forearm from where he had originally placed it to rest on the Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s just me here,” he said when she was finally gone. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Three. There are three of us,” Sam replied slowly as he glanced up, looking at something, someone behind Dean. “He’s here too.. But he’s mostly quiet, unlike.. unlike the voices.”

“No, it’s just the two of us, Sam. He’s not real. Me, I’m real. I’m real. You can feel me. I’m sitting right here in front of you,” Dean reassured slowly, giving Sam’s wrist a gentle little squeeze.

“He says the same about you. That you’re not real,” Sam replied shakily as panic started to build again until Dean’s grip on his wrist tightened exponentially as did Sam’s grip on Dean’s shirt. “You’re real,” he whispered out as he made eye contact with Dean, trying so hard to convince himself. “You’re real. You’re real, Dean. He’s real too.”  

“I’m real and I’m right here. He’s not. Focus on me. Just focus on me and go back to taking your deep breaths,” Dean said frantically, his chest aching with a sort of deep sadness because he wished with everything in him that Sam didn’t have to deal with this. He was so young and so kind and pure of heart.. Down to his very soul, Dean could tell Sam was good and he didn’t deserve this. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re real,” Sam repeated back, not adding the part about Lucifer also being real even though he still wholeheartedly believed it. He took a deep breath, very slowly letting it out as his grip loosened on Dean’s shirt before his hands dropped down into his lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.. She was right, I shouldn’t have touched you.”

“It’s okay,” Dean said gently, dropping his own hands and searching Sam’s eyes for a moment silently. They were beautiful, kind of like sunflowers in summer sun. Dean shook the thought from his mind. “It’s okay. I’ve been touching you here and there for days on accident.”  
  
“I don’t mean to pull away, you know” Sam replied honestly as he looked up at Dean again before slumping back against the tree and bringing his knees to his chest. “It’s just.. it hurts. So much,” he whispered out, “when Lucifer touches me, it feels like my skin is burning off.”

“I promise it will never feel like that when I touch you,” Dean replied gently as he pushed his fingers through his own hair. “And if you want, I’ll stop touching you all together. Or at least try my best to, touching, touch.. It’s the only way I remember being comforted by my mother so it’s a comfort to me and I do it to others by accident.”

“No, don’t stop. I’ll try to start thinking about if it actually hurts or not before I pull away.” Sam shrugged just slightly, resting his chin on his knees and letting one hand drop to the ground to play with the blades of grass there. “Thank you, Dean.”

“For what, man?” Dean asked as he tilted his head, dropping his gaze to where Sam’s fingers were messing with the grass. “I didn’t do anything.”

_“You shouldn’t have touched him. Bet he’ll be angry with you later on. No one wants to be touched by you. Your own mother even stopped touching you, Sam.”_

“I don’t know. Just thank you,” Sam replied quietly as he looked up at Dean again, meeting his eyes.  “I’m sorry for grabbing your shirt. I panicked and I felt like I was going to just.. break and holding onto something, someone, _you_.. it helped. I know I shouldn’t have touched you and I’m sorry but it did help.”

“Never apologize for doing something that helps you,” Dean replied gently, offering Sam the second ever tiny but real smile he had shown in years. Sam had been the cause of both. There was still sadness, emptiness behind them but they were real nonetheless. “It’s okay,” he reassured, his touch gentle as he reached to brush his fingertips over Sam’s forearm. “I promise.”

Sam glanced down for a moment at Dean’s fingers on his arm, deciding looking at Dean wasn’t a good idea because he wanted stupidly much to just surge forward and kiss the stunning smile on Dean’s lips. Which, of course, he couldn’t do. Dean was straight after all and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want someone as broken as Sam. But it didn’t matter, Sam had come to terms with the crush he had and even if it was getting a little bit stronger every day, he was still perfectly able to push the feelings aside when he needed to.

When Sam had slowly gotten himself back to almost fully calm, he slumped back against the tree, keeping his knees up and continuing to play with the grass but not saying anything because he didn’t have anything to say.

Dean fell silent too as he leaned back against the tree, glancing over at Sam for just a moment before he scooted closer making it so that they were sitting as close as they possibly could be without actually touching. There were a lot of nice things about Sam, Dean decided. Sam had beautiful eyes, like sunflowers on a summer day; his hands were warm and soft. He had a gentle, beautiful smile and more than anything, he was the strongest kid Dean had even met. And so when Dean zoned out once again, his thoughts were on Sam for once instead of something darker.


	5. Tell Me Your Story

Before either of them knew it, a little over two weeks had passed since the day Sam had arrived in the facility and while Sam and Dean still didn’t real talk much, Sam had begun to find comfort in Dean’s presence just as Dean found comfort in his. The conversation about not being friends was not forgotten by any means but Sam figured the words had meant nothing to either of them anymore, now that they were getting closer. Neither of them knew much about one another, Sam knowing less about Dean than Dean knew about him which was already very limited but it didn’t matter.

The end of spring had turned into the beginning of summer and while the heat was often sweltering, they still found themselves sitting under the large oak tree outside whenever they were able to, between therapy sessions and meals, during activity time. They no longer sat with space between them, their sides always pressed together without thought or consequence because the staff had determined that it was harmless enough that they always sat too close. Both took comfort in the simple feeling of pressure along their side. Dean would occasionally brush his fingers over Sam’s arm when Sam needed a bit of comfort and Sam would grip Dean’s shirt when he panicked but other than that, they didn’t touch much.

This day was a Saturday, one where the sky was gloomy despite the air being humid and warm and when Sam woke up, it felt like it was going to be a decent day. He took some time to lay in bed thinking before he grabbed his journal to write in it about the nightmares he had had the night before. Eventually, he made his way to breakfast when the nurse alerted him that it was time but when Dean wasn’t there, the idea of it being an okay day was gone. Dean was always at breakfast first so Dean not being there raised a red flag in Sam’s mind. He got his usual breakfast of eggs, fruit, and toast, and sat down, watching the door to the cafeteria but not eating because he couldn’t unless Dean tried it first to make sure that there was nothing in it that could hurt Sam.

_“He’s not coming, Sam. He’s dead. He’s mentioned that he doesn’t want to be alive, he finally did it.”_

As his thoughts started to spin, Sam got up, throwing all of the food away despite having not eaten any. He took a deep breath, heading out of the cafeteria when the staff wasn’t looking. He walked into the main gathering room of the building, looking around and scanning all of the patients that were in there before he headed to the window to look outside because maybe Dean was under the tree like they often were. Except he wasn’t and the panic was just starting to get stronger.

_“He’s avoiding you.”  
_

Finally, Sam headed down the hall that had their rooms in it and when he stepped into Dean’s room and saw someone laying under the covers of the bed closest to the door, relief flooded through him because Dean was right there. He walked over quickly, moving to kneel down by the edge of the bed, about to ask why Dean hadn’t come to breakfast but Dean clearly wasn’t seeing him at the moment despite Sam being right in front of him and tears were trailing down Dean’s cheeks and over the bridge of his freckled nose, a little wet spot on the sheets under his face.

“Dean?” Sam asked quietly, hesitantly reaching out and using his thumb to wipe the tears off Dean’s cheeks but Dean didn’t react to his name or the touch. “Dean? Hey,” he continued as he glanced over at the doorway, no one coming to look for him despite the fear that someone would get upset with him if they found him here.

Dissociation was what the nurse had called this state that Dean was in. Sam had asked his therapist about it and the therapist had been confused as to why he needed to know what it was but the therapist had told him anyways. He let his eyes search Dean’s, reaching to shake his shoulder carefully. “Dean, come on.”

_“He’s not going to wake up.”_

“He’s not asleep,” Sam said aloud as he shook Dean’s shoulder a little harder and then squeezed it as hard as he could. “Dean.. Please. Come back.”

The squeeze to his shoulder caused Dean to blink a few times and mostly come back, reaching up to wipe his cheeks but more tears just continued to slip down his cheeks so it didn’t matter anyways. “Oh, uh, hey,” Dean replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry. What’s.. uhm, what’s up? Do you need something, Sam?”

Sam frowned at him sadly as he stood up from the kneeling position, looking down at Dean and then looking at the bed itself silently for a moment. He hesitated for a long while before he sat down on the edge of it, looking back over at Dean.

 _“He doesn’t want you on his bed. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get off of it before he kicks you off and yells at you.”_  
  
“Is it okay that I sit here?” Sam asked quietly as Dean let his head rest down against the pillow again, nodding the slightest bit. “Do you.. wanna talk? You’re crying, Dean.”

Dean shook his head, letting his eyes fall shut as he wiped them off again. “Do you need something?” He asked again as he scrubbed his cheeks with the heel of his hand to hopefully get any tears completely away. “Why are you in here?”

_“He doesn’t want you in here. He doesn’t want you here. Leave him alone.”_

“I.. I went to breakfast and you weren’t there,” Sam replied as he played with his sleeve, looking down at his lap and not at Dean because for some reason, he felt like a little kid again and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. “Got worried about you is all.. And I couldn’t eat anything either without you there. You know, without your help, I mean.”

Dean opened his eyes at that, frowning and blinking a few more times because tears were still falling even though he was trying his hardest to make them stop. He didn’t believe that Sam was worried about him, no one gave a fuck about Dean, not even his own father, he knew that; regardless, he did start feeling guilty for missing breakfast. He knew Sam couldn’t eat without him trying the food first and he shouldn’t have done that to the kid.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to miss out on breakfast. I didn’t know it was.. I didn’t know breakfast had started,” he admitted as he very slowly began to sit up. He wasn’t wearing the long-sleeved shirt under his hospital clothing like he normally did during the day because it was too hot to sleep in long sleeves but that meant that the pale scars that covered every inch of his forearms were showing. And despite how bad his arms were, compared to his hips and thighs, his arms were nothing but Sam couldn’t see those since Dean was wearing pants and his short-sleeved shirt. “The nurse came in, woke me up, and I said I would get up and I guess I just didn’t and zoned out a little after that. I don’t really remember.”

Sam totally forgot what they were talking about almost immediately as he saw the damage on Dean’s arms and he reached out, touching the scars on Dean’s wrist carefully before he glanced up and met Dean’s eyes, his own starting to become glassy as tears started to form but didn’t fall. “Dean, why would you..?”  
_  
_ _“He hurts himself. He’s going to hurt you. What’s stopping him from hurting you if he does that to himself?”_

“Oh.. Shit, sorry. I’m supposed to keep those covered while I’m in here so I don’t.. ya know, trigger other people. Let me go put on my undershirt real quick,” Dean said as he got out of the bed, grabbing the long sleeved shirt from the bedside table and stepping into the bathroom, pulling the curtain that hung there to give himself some privacy while he changed. He tugged his shirt off, pulling on the long-sleeved one and then pulling the normal scrub-like shirt back on. He returned quickly after, sitting down on the bed crisscrossed close to Sam and looking to him. “There. Covered, all better. Is breakfast still available so we can get some food in you?”

“You think I care about breakfast?” Sam asked rhetorically as he looked at Dean, his lips just slightly parted and the expression on his face one of sad awe. He couldn’t understand why someone as kind and good and _selfless_ as Dean would do that to himself. He didn’t understand it in the slightest. “Dean, why would you do that?”

“I care about you eating breakfast,” Dean pointed out, not answering the question. He reached up, wiping off the last of the tears on his cheeks because luckily, they had stopped falling. “Breakfast is important and you need to eat it. Keep your blood sugar stable, your energy levels up. You know the saying, ‘breakfast is the most important meal of the day.’”

_“He clearly doesn’t want to talk about this. Stop pushing him. You’re going to get yourself punched and you’ll deserve it.”_

“Dean..” Sam warned with a small frown despite his fears for his own safety. Dean was more important than anything the voices could say at this moment and even if Dean did punch him, Sam would take it. He reached for Dean’s arm, pushing two fingers up under his shirt so he was resting them on the scars. “You did this to yourself. Why?”

Dean sighed when he realized Sam wasn’t going to back down on the issue and he watched Sam quietly for a moment before pulling his arm slowly back so Sam’s fingers trailed down his forearm, wrist, over his palm, and then his fingers before Dean’s hand was fully pulled away and both of his hands were folded in his lap. If he lost Sam because of what he was about to say, so be it. Better now than later when Dean cared for him even more.

“Two reason, really. It started out as an accident. But then became a punishment thing and later on, I started to need it; I need the pain it caused. Punishment and needing it are still the reasons. When I was twelve, I was cooking for my dad, he got furious about something or another and I was caught off guard, dropped a knife, and like an idiot, I tried to catch it without thinking, ‘oh, that’s a knife. It’s sharp. I should let it fall and pick it up off the floor.’ So cut my hand on it. It stung like a bitch but I deserved the pain from it because I’d upset my dad. So I started doing it whenever I did something I thought was bad or whenever I felt guilty because I deserved it. I deserved to be punished and I deserved to be in pain. Pain is a punishment after all. But eventually, I realized I wasn’t doing it just to punish myself anymore. I wasn’t just doing it when I felt guilty. I was doing it because I needed to do it. Feeling the pain, seeing the blood run down my skin, it was something to feel and fuck, Sam, it had been a long time since I had felt anything when I started. So I needed it, I needed to feel something and it was easier to slice my arm, slice my leg, slice my side, than it was to feel something emotionally. It still is.”

  
“It still is? You mean you still do that to yourself?” Sam asked and it almost sounded like he was out of breath because he kind of was; he had been holding his breath the whole time Dean was speaking. “Dean, god..”

“I don’t still do it. I can’t. That’s why I eat with a spoon, Sam. That’s why I’m not allowed to even have a damn pen or pencil in this place. Because I tried my damnedest to keep doing it, even without a blade.. Even if that meant with a pen or a plastic fucking fork. But yes, I desperately wish I still could. I need the pain it brings,” Dean said a little harshly but his expression and voice softened significantly when he saw fear flash over Sam’s features. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

_“He’s angry. He’s going to hurt you, Sam. He’s going to hurt you. You made him angry at you.”_

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry for asking,” Sam said frantically as he scooted just a little bit away from Dean.

The action broke Dean’s heart in a way he didn’t really understand. He didn’t want to hurt Sam, not now, not ever. “I’m never going to hurt you,” he said gently, hesitantly holding out his hand, palm up as an invitation for Sam to take it. “I’m not going to hurt you. Never. I could never. I care about you way too much to do that.”

_“He doesn’t care about you. No one cares about you, Sam. Your own mother doesn’t even care about you, why should he?”_

Sam hesitated for a long while, letting his gaze just rest on Dean’s hand before he very slowly placed his hand onto Dean’s and Dean gave it a little squeeze. “You shouldn’t care about me,” Sam said quietly as he let his eyes move back up to Dean’s.

“Yeah, well, I do. Probably way too much,” Dean replied quietly, the words that came out of his mouth making him realize it was true. He cared about Sam so incredibly much and he hadn’t realized just the extent of it until he had said the words aloud. He felt things for Sam that he hadn’t felt in ages, maybe ever. Because it wasn’t sexual, physical attraction like he felt for the random women he hooked up with, it was more than that, even if there was an element of that physical attraction mixed in. It was romantic attraction.Dean really didn’t need this on top of everything else. Fuck.

“Well, I care about you, too, Dean,” Sam replied gently as he gave Dean’s hand a little squeeze in return. “Probably way too much,” he added, quoting Dean directly as he smiled slowly at Dean, the voices still yelling at him that Dean was going to hurt him but he pushed those thoughts that the voices were placing in his head away.

Dean definitely didn’t believe that. No one cared about him and no one should. But that didn’t keep him from smiling back at Sam, the smile small but beautiful and as real as it could be, even if it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. Yeah, he definitely had feelings for this kid and it didn’t feel bad. It felt really good. Warm almost. Warmth blooming in his chest really wasn’t something he had felt in almost two decades since before he’d lost his mother and it was a wonderful feeling compared to the nothingness.  

“I wished you smiled more,” Sam said quietly before he could think about the words that were coming out of his mouth and a deep blush spread over his cheeks when he said it. “Sorry, I didn't mean it in a weird way.”  
_  
_ _“Well, that was fucking creepy, Samantha. You don’t just tell people shit like that. Next he’s going to find out about your pathetic little gay crush.”_

“I have been smiling more,” Dean admitted quietly, still loosely holding onto Sam’s hand between them. He was glad the subject had been turned away from his scars. Yeah, he wasn’t self conscious about them but he didn’t exactly like talking about them either. “I used to never smile.. I’ve noticed myself smiling a little more since you showed up. You’ve been making me smile more.” He hadn’t really been happier; he hadn’t been doing better. But Sam’s smiles were certainly contagious, even when Dean was feeling completely numb inside.  
  
“Well, I’m glad because you have a nice smile,” Sam said quietly despite the words that were still swirling around his head. He pushed the idea of Dean smiling away, his thoughts returning to the fact that Dean had been crying earlier instead. He hadn’t seen Dean show really any emotion except concern for him since he’d gotten there so it was weird, seeing a few tears run down Dean’s cheeks. “Dean, why were you crying when I came in? What were you thinking about?”

Dean glanced down, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth and chewing on it. He kind of trusted Sam, which was weird. But he guessed it wouldn’t be the worst if he told Sam part of what was wrong with him. Like he had been thinking earlier, if Sam didn’t want to associate with him now because of something he said, at least it wasn’t later when Dean would certainly care for him even more.

_“He doesn’t want to tell you. That’s his business, freak. Stop trying to involve yourself in affairs that aren’t yours.”_

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with doing so,” Sam added quietly before Dean could say anything anything, giving Dean’s hand a tight, reassuring squeeze. “I won’t be upset or anything.”

“No, it’s okay. I uh.. I was thinking about my mom,” Dean said as he just let his gaze rest steadily on their linked hands, trying to focus on the feeling of warmth coming from Sam’s hand to keep himself grounded and calm. “She died when I was four, almost five. I should be over it by now. I mean, hell, I’m twenty-two years old for God’s sake. It’s been almost two decades. But I’m not. I think it’s probably partially because I lost my dad that day too. Not in the same way. He didn’t die physically but he essentially died inside and pretty much forgot that he had a little kid to take care of. I don’t blame him though and I did okay, taking care of myself for years and years until I began to give up on, well, everything. I even ended up dropping out of high school at sixteen because I couldn’t do that either.”

“That wasn’t fair to you but I’m sorry. I really am. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved to have a normal childhood, to be taken care of like your dad should have,” Sam said quietly, letting his thumb rub soothing circles onto the back of Dean’s hand like Dean had done on his pulsepoint weeks ago. “Thank you,” he added when Dean hadn’t responded.

“For what?” Dean asked quietly, the simple touches to his hand genuinely calming him as he spoke about this, about his family.

“For telling me,” Sam replied gently, giving Dean’s hand a tight squeeze as he smiled softly at Dean before a thought came to his mind. “Can I.. uh, give you a hug, Dean? You seem like you need one.” In reality, Sam knew it was really him that needed one but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

_“What a stupid fucking question. Of course he doesn’t want to give you a damn hug. What the fuck is wrong with you?”_

Dean didn’t answer verbally but he dropped Sam’s hand, shifting to carefully wrap his arms around Sam and Sam slumped into him, hugging him back tightly and gripping the back of Dean’s shirt in his hands. He completely melted into the hug, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and letting himself focus on the feeling of Dean’s body pressed against him. He hadn’t been hugged in a long time and even though the voices were telling him this was a bad idea and that he should let go and never do it again, he only hugged Dean tighter, not yet finding the strength to pull away. Sam figured Dean needed this too though, if how tightly Dean was hugging him back was any indication.


	6. Heartbeat

Two weeks quickly turned into two months and August, school, was approaching fast. As the time passed, Sam’s medications still weren’t helping him in the way they could have and he wasn’t really doing much better than he had been when he had entered the facility, save for the fact that he was genuinely a little happier, thanks to Dean. He still had anxiety and panic attacks at least every other day, often daily. He was still entirely convinced that Lucifer and the voices were real. He still was delusional about a lot of things. He still feared losing everyone, though that fear wasn’t completely irrational; Mary didn’t really visit him often, none of his friends did either. But the fact that Dean hadn’t gotten any visitors either helped Sam cope with that in a way. At this rate, he would not be making it out in time for the beginning of school but no one had told him that yet. 

After that first hug that they shared, something about the dynamic between them had changed but it definitely hadn’t changed in a bad way. It was comforting if anything. Little, simple things started to change. It was lingering touches when Dean stood up to clear their trays and when they were standing side by side, Dean’s hand might momentarily rest on the small of Sam’s back where no one could see or when blood was drawn on the rare occasion that it happened during daylight hours, Sam would grip Dean’s hand for a bit of comfort as he watched the vials fill up with blood. They had become friends, despite Sam’s qualms about it. They didn’t know much about one another still though. They didn’t even know one another’s last names, let alone their hobbies and things that made them happy. But they were friends regardless and to an extent, they looked out for each other. 

 

* * *

Sam was fast asleep, having had a somewhat stressful but overall okay day before he had gone to bed. His mother had dropped off his final schedule for the fall semester of classes that morning and he was excited because August was almost here; he believed he’d be getting out of this place before school started so that was something to look forward to. He had been having somewhat pleasant dreams, normal ones, of him and his mother, his graduation, things like that, when he woke up. He woke up rather peacefully until his gaze drifted to the ceiling and he saw something he had hallucinated on various occasions: his mother burning alive on the ceiling. While logic should have told him that his mother was at home, not in the facility, his brain wasn’t having any of that and he screamed at the top of his lungs, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. He was completely frozen in fear because to him, it was extremely real. 

Dean had been awake but finally teetering on the edge of sleep at around two in the morning when he heard a blood-curdling scream from across the hall, one that made his blood run cold. Sam. It took him less than three seconds to be out of bed, not caring that he was in his short sleeves because Sam was more important than covering some scars that he already didn’t care about. He was across the hall in less than six seconds and even though it was dark, he could make out Sam’s figure on the bed. He rushed over, grabbing Sam as quickly as he could and yanking him down and off the bed, into his arms. He moved to sit on the floor with Sam in his lap, holding him tightly against his chest, and murmuring a soft, “I’ve got you,” in his ear.

Sam’s screaming stopped when he was pulled off the bed more from shock than anything else but he wasn’t quite aware of his surroundings yet so a fist came down hard against Dean’s chest with a soft thud sound as he struggled against the confinement of Dean’s arm between broken sobs. When he heard Dean’s calm, soft voice and realized exactly who was holding him, he didn’t stop sobbing but his hands moved to clutch Dean’s shirt with a death grip instead of struggling against him. He pressed his face into Dean’s shoulder, sobs continuing to rack his body and hot tears wetting Dean’s shirt. 

A night shift nurse and a doctor both walked in, flicking on the light in the room and the nurse looked to the doctor with a small frown on her lips before looking back to Dean. “Dean, you need to let go of him and return to your room. He’s not entirely present at the moment and he could hurt you.” 

Luckily, neither of them had seen Sam roughly hit him because Dean knew for a fact Sam would have been forcefully removed from him if they had and he didn’t care in the slightest that Sam had hit him. Sam could hit him a million times and still all Dean would care about was Sam being okay. “Don’t touch him, ma’am. Don’t touch me,” Dean said very clearly to the nurse, hugging Sam closer to his body instead of letting him go even a little bit. Sam was breaking, metaphorically, in his arms as the sobbing continued and Sam’s grip only tightened on his shirt to the point where Sam’s knuckles were white, neither of them ever planning on pulling away. “I’ve got you, Sammy. You’re okay. Whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. I’ve got you. I’m real. I’m here.” 

“Dean, you need to let go of him and you need to return to your room immediately,” the doctor said as he looked to the nurse. “Go get him his prescribed dose of Xanax and his antipsychotic; we’ll see if we can get him to take it. Get security on the line, just in case.” The nurse left immediately and the doctor stepped around them, assisting Sam’s roommate out of the room and into the hall.

_ “It is real, Sam. Your mother’s gone. Burnt to a crisp. Dean’s the one who isn’t real.”  _

“It was real. It is real, it’s real. She’s gone,” Sam choked out as he continued to sob into Dean’s shoulder, Dean making no move to pull away regardless of the doctor’s words as Sam’s whole body started to tremble. The voices were starting to get loud in Sam’s ears, overpowering Dean, overpowering the nurse, the doctor, everything and he felt like he was underwater and on fire at the same time. They all felt unreal suddenly as Lucifer and all of the voices took over everything, clouding his senses. 

“You’re not real. Dean, you’re not real.” The panic in Sam’s voice was building steadily and he sat up straight in Dean’s lap, his hands still clutching Dean’s shirt as he tried to focus on Dean’s face. He tried to look at Dean’s features, tried to count his freckles or look into his eyes to map them out like he often did to try to calm himself but his eyes felt like they weren’t working because everything was so blurry, likely because he was damn near close to hyperventilating. But to him, it made it feel like the world wasn’t real, like the illusion of Dean was disappearing. “You’re not real,” he breathed out, his voice sounding so incredibly wrecked that Dean was pretty sure if his heart could physically shatter into pieces, it would have.

Dean’s hands moved to Sam’s face despite the painful ache he was now feeling in his chest, grabbing it and letting their eyes meet even though Sam couldn’t focus on him. “Look. At. Me. Feel my hands on your face and focus on the sound of my voice and the fact that you’re not sitting on the floor, you’re sitting in my lap,” Dean said seriously as he let his eyes dart between Sam’s, Sam doing exactly what Dean had done and grabbing Dean’s face, the doctor two strides away from intervening in case Sam tried anything that could hurt Dean.

“I am real, Sammy. Dean, me. I’m real and I’m here and wh-atever you saw, it wasn’t real,” Dean said quietly, forcing himself to maintain a calm tone though his voice did crack while he was trying to speak. “I’m real,” he added again as he reached up to placed his hand on one of Sam’s wrists. Dean drew Sam’s hand down, moving it to rest over his heart so Sam could feel the steady, albeit a little fast, beating beneath his fingertips. He covered Sam’s hand fully with his own, holding it there. “That’s my heart you feel, kiddo. I’m real and I’m right here with you. I’ve got you. Focus on me. Focus on my heartbeat.” 

Sam’s breathing finally began to slow after a few minutes of silently sitting there and feeling the rhythmic beating of Dean’s heart beneath his fingertips. While tears were still streaming down his cheeks, the voices started to slowly fade back to a dull murmur as always. His other hand stayed on Dean’s face, holding it as he stared blankly at Dean. He was still somewhat out of it when he surged forward, pressing his mouth to Dean’s without thinking it through fully. He needed a final confirmation that Dean was real and that was the first thing he had thought to do. It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t sweet. It was pure desperation that compelled him to do it. 

Dean made a surprised, muffled sound against Sam’s mouth but didn’t kiss back causing Sam to pulled away. Sam didn’t apologize but he also didn’t say anything else as he let his forehead drop to rest against Dean’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and went back to focusing on Dean’s heartbeat, which had gotten just a little bit faster than it had been. Because he was still out of it, listening to the voices telling him about his mother's death as he tried to push through, he was, luckily, not thinking about the fact that he had kissed Dean. 

When he had finally calmed himself down almost completely, he let out a slow and shaky breath, looking back up to Dean as he unhurriedly got off of Dean’s lap and pulled away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m going to try.. to try to go back to sleep. Do you promise.. swear to me that my mother is okay?” He asked, his voice weak and hoarse from crying. 

Dean didn’t know why that was what Sam was asking but he had to assume the hallucination that Sam had been having involved his mother so he nodded, reaching out to brush the tears off Sam’s cheeks carefully before he spoke. “She’s okay. I promise. Let’s get you back in bed and you can call her in the morning to make sure,” he said calmly as he stood up, holding his hand out to Sam which Sam took to help himself get up from the ground. 

Dean helped him sit down on the edge of the bed, crouching down slightly so he was looking up at him and reaching up to brush Sam’s hair from his eyes. “You’re okay. If you need me, I’m across the hall and I promise I’ll be here the second you need me if anything goes wrong.” He stood back up, hesitating for a long moment. When he had made up his mind, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s temple before turning and heading out of the room, the nurse walking over to Sam finally and giving him a cup of water and a set of two pills as the doctor walked after Dean. 

“That was completely inappropriate, Dean. He could have harmed you. And he did. If need be, we can begin the process to file sexual assault charges because he did kiss you and despite being in a state of confusion, he still must be held accountable for his actions,” the doctor said quietly, stepping in front of the doorway of Dean’s room so their conversation couldn’t wake Dean’s roommate. 

“No fucking way are you filing anything against him. He was out of it, like you said, first of all, and second, I don’t give a damn if he kissed me. That kid could kiss me whenever the hell he wanted and I would never be mad about it. He’s just a kid and he absolutely did not sexually assault me. Never mention anything like that to me ever again,” Dean said flatly, looking down at the man. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He did but it’s kind of you not to even consider press charges. But don't just do it to protect him. For future reference, do not go to his room if something like this happens again. The staff here are trained to deal with the psychotic, delusional behavior that his schizophrenia causes and panic attacks. You are not. He could have seriously injured you or injured himself. Do not do that again.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. I can’t leave this place but that doesn’t mean you can control every aspect of my damn life. Or of his,” Dean said quietly as he stepped into the room, shaking his head. “As long as he needs me, I’m going to comfort him. So screw you, doc. And screw this hospital’s policies. You’re not going to kick me out either because I’ve been trying to leave AMA since the day I got here and guess what, I’m still here no matter how hard I try to get out.” 

The doctor frowned at him, shaking his head. “Goodnight, Dean. Don’t do it again,” he said quietly before heading down the hall and leaving Dean alone in the room. 

Dean sat down on the bed once the doctor was gone, pushing his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. “Fuck,” he muttered out to himself. Sam had kissed him. It was an accident he was sure of it, but still, it made Dean’s feelings for Sam a hundred times stronger because he couldn’t help but wonder what if it hadn’t been an accident. If it hadn’t been an accident, Dean felt like that was almost worse. He cared for Sam, more than he cared for anyone in his life at the moment but Sam was only going to be in his life for a short while longer, maybe as little as a few weeks.

As soon as he thought that, he realized how true it was. In the next few weeks, Sam would be gone from Dean’s life forever, back in high school. That thought made tears bubble in his eyes for a reason he couldn’t quite name. He quickly wiped away the tears but not before a single one slipped down his cheek. This kid had become the center of Dean’s world in less than two and a half months and he still didn’t even know his last name. Dean didn’t want to lose him like he had lost everyone else in his life. His mom, his dad, his friends. Dean had lost everyone and he didn’t want to lose Sam too but he knew he didn’t have a choice. History repeats itself, after all. Dean would lose anyone who entered his life, he knew that. If Dean was being honest with himself, he didn’t know how he would cope once Sam was out of his life. He figured he’d go back to how he was before he was even in the hospital: recklessly suicidal. Worse than he was now and he certainly wasn't doing well anyways. He was still suicidal, still wanted to die constantly, still dissociated for hours a day, still wanted to hurt himself, but with Sam around, Dean found himself caring more about protecting Sam than he cared about dying. Without Sam to care for, Dean knew those thoughts would consume him completely once again. 


	7. Don't Get Close

Sam woke up very early in the morning despite the exhausting events of the previous night. He got up and headed to the main room, settling himself in Dean’s normal spot by the window to watch the sunrise as he walked himself mentally through the events of the previous night. He remembered seeing his mother burn and screaming, hitting someone. And then Dean’s arms around him. He remembered the feeling of Dean’s heart beating beneath his fingertips. 

Sam looked down at his hand, at his fingertips, before resting his head against the window and continuing to watch the sun coming up, letting his eyes drift over the beautiful hues in the sky as he continued to think. He remembered the feeling of Dean’s hands on his face. And he remembered kissing Dean. “Crap,” Sam whispered to himself, reaching up to touch bottom lip lightly with his fingertips. Dean hadn’t kissed him back, he remembered that too. But maybe Sam just didn’t remember Dean kissing back because he did remember the feeling of Dean kissing his temple a little later on and that had to mean something, right?

_ “He didn’t want to kiss you. He didn’t kiss you back. He’s going to hate you, you faggot. You kissed him. You shouldn’t have done that.” _

Sam ignored the thought and the voices as best he could. He still believed that he was straight and for all intent and purposes, he was. Dean was just an exception and Sam really didn’t mind it anymore. He liked Dean as a person, screw his genitalia. He still wasn’t even sure he ever wanted sex with anyone at all so that was one more reason not to care what was between Dean’s legs. But kissing Dean, he remembered that and he remembered how nice Dean’s lips felt against his own, even if it was just a reassurance to Sam that Dean was real and not a kiss that was truly genuine or heartfelt. It was different than kissing the few girls he had kissed had been. Dean’s lips were firmer but soft still and if Sam knew anything, he knew he wanted it again.

Sam didn’t have much more time to think about it though because soon, a nurse was escorting him into his psychologist’s office and he was sitting down on the ugly couch across from her. “I don’t have therapy today; I had it yesterday. Why am I in here?” He asked quietly, bringing his legs up onto the couch and hugging them close to his chest. He was still in his pajamas so he felt a little weird, sitting across someone in a suit. “Especially so early in the morning.”

“You had an incident last night if I’ve heard correctly. Your medical team figured it would be for the best that I meet with you first thing in the morning. Do you want to tell me what happened?” She asked gently as she picked up her clipboard.

“Oh, uh.. I just had a bad dream, that’s all. Not a big deal,” Sam lied immediately, glancing up from the floor to offer her a little, weak smile. “I’m okay now. Dean helped me through it and then the nurse gave me some meds and I went back to sleep. That’s all that happened. I wouldn’t call it an incident per se.”

_ “She knows you’re lying, Sam. She can tell you’re lying to her.” _

“Yes, speaking of Dean, I was told what happened between the two of you and I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about him for a while now,” she replied as she scribbled down a quick note on her clipboard. “You’ve been getting close to him, right? You’re friends? Close ones even.” 

“Uhm, yeah. He’s my friend and we’re close. Why does that matter? Why does it matter if I made a friend?” Sam asked a little bit rudely because why was that her business? She didn’t need to know about him being friends with Dean or not.  

_ “She knows you have a crush on him. She knows you’re a faggot. Dean probably knows, too.” _

“It’s wonderful that you made a friend, Sam. Friendships really can help with healing. But last night, the doctor that was in the room with you, Dr. Asa, believes you’ve been getting a little too close to Dean during your stay here. When you do eventually get to go home, you won’t be able to maintain communication with him. But most importantly, he’s suicidal, Sam. Technically, I’m not supposed to tell you that but it’s necessary right now and Dean has explicitly stated that he doesn’t care who knows. And you already know from Dean, I’m sure. Your team and I don’t believe that it’s good how close you’ve gotten to him. He’s admitted to being suicidal for over a decade and we cannot be sure that he will not act on his urges again when he does leave the facility. We believe that you should begin to distance yourself from him for the duration of your stay in case he does actually succeed at some point. With how close to him you’ve gotten, we’re concerned for your mental health. When you get out or if he succeeds.”   
_  
_ _ “They want Dean to die because he’s a freak like you are, Sam. They’ll want you to die next.”  _

“I know he’s suicidal,” Sam replied flatly, standing up. “And you know what, screw you. Dean is my friend and.. and he’s going to stay my friend. Even when I get out, I’m going to keep talking to him as much as I can. Calling, writing letters, whatever it takes because I care about him and I want him to get better. He’s my friend..”

“Sam, please sit back down. This is a legitimate concern. If Dean ever succeeds, how would you feel?” 

“Dean isn’t going to kill himself,” Sam replied without a moment of hesitation or a second thought but then suddenly it was hitting him. “He wouldn’t do that to me. He won’t do that. He’s going to get better,” he added, his voice far less confident now that the idea was settling in.    
_  
_ _ “Dean’s going to kill himself. He’s going to leave you just like everyone else except he’s going to die, not just leave you. Leave the world. Leave everyone.”  _

“You can’t know that, Sam. Please, sit down,” she said calmly, writing down another note on her clipboard. “As much as this facility is working to get Dean better, we cannot assure you that he will and so you have to think about yourself first.” 

“Dean isn’t going to kill himself. Don’t even think about telling me that again. And you know, I’m going to get close to absolutely anyone I want to. So.. so screw you and all of my so-called ‘team’ because they don’t seem like they’re on my side right now,” Sam replied harshly, opening the door and walking out, closing it after him. He’d been in there for less than five minutes but he was still distraught. He walked towards Dean’s room, knocking on the doorframe even though there was no door and poking his head inside to see Dean awake and sitting on the bed, crisscrossed. “Morning, Dean.” 

Dean glanced up, offering Sam a tilt of his head as he gently reached for Sam’s hand when Sam was in the room, giving it a tight squeeze. “Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?” He asked quietly, clearly exhausted. He hadn’t fallen asleep after Sam’s incident that night at all so he was running on exactly zero hours of sleep.

“I’m okay. Just had a bad night. But you.. You were with me, Dean, meaning I woke you up last night. I’m so sorry,” Sam said calmly, not wanting to talk about the meeting he’d just had with his psychologist. He gave Dean’s hand a tight squeeze in return as he spoke, reaching up to rub the sleep from his own eyes with his free hand because he, too, was quite tired. 

“Nah, you didn’t wake me,” Dean replied softly with a small sigh. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Insomnia, as you know. You woke my roommate though,” he added as he glanced over at the sleeping figure in the other bed before back to Sam. “So keep your voice down a little, alright?” 

“Sorry,” Sam said quickly in a hushed whisper, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed and letting out a small sigh, trying not to let the thoughts, the ones that were sinking in about Dean dying, overwhelm him. “Dean, I’m really sorry still. I don’t remember.. all of what happened last night. I remember some of it; I was exhausted at the time so I don’t know, but I remember hitting someone and.. and I can only assume that was you. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Yeah. It was me that you hit but no, I’m okay. I swear. And I’m not upset with you or anything,” Dean reassured softly as he offered Sam a tired, but still beautiful, little smile. “I’m not upset with you about anything that happened last night. You weren’t totally with it. Don’t worry. No blame coming from me.” He squeezed Sam’s hand tightly, his smile falling quickly as it always did back to his normal sad-neutral look. His smiles were a very rare occurrence but every time they appeared, they were beautiful, even though they were weak and never quite reached his eyes. 

“I hit you,” Sam repeated as Dean’s words sunk in, eyes going wide as he dropped Dean’s hand so as not to be touching Dean in any way. “I’m so sorry, Dean, oh, god.”   
  
“No, no. It’s better that you hit me than that you hit someone else. Someone else might have cared. And nobody saw it, luckily. I figured they might have forced you away from me if someone saw but no one saw. If I would have been upset, I wouldn’t have continued to comfort you through the rest of it. It’s okay. I promise. And if you don’t believe that it’s okay, at least believe me when I say I forgive you.” 

_ “He doesn’t forgive you. You hurt him. You hurt him, Sam. You did what you’ve been scared he’d do to you. You hurt him.”  _

“You shouldn’t forgive me. I hit you. I hurt you. Dean, I’m so sorry,” Sam said with his voice beginning to crack as he looked down, hair flopping into his eyes. 

“Sam, hey. Look at me. Calm down. We don’t want to have another panic attack, now do we?” Dean asked as he brushed Sam’s hair off his face before he took Sam’s hand in his again, squeezing it tightly. “Will you tell me what you were seeing last night? You don’t have to. I’d like to know if you want to talk about it, I’m here,” he murmured out softly, hopefully drawing Sam’s attention away from the fact that he had hit Dean. 

“I uh.. I..” Sam was definitely grateful for the distraction but it didn’t mean that he could form full sentences yet. He took a deep breath, collecting himself and giving Dean’s hand another squeeze before he found his voice. “I saw my mom. It’s something.. something I see a lot. My mother, burning to death on the ceiling. Burning alive..”

“That hits a little close to home,” Dean mumbled out to himself, letting out a small sigh and glancing up at Sam again. “Do you want to talk about it?”   


“What do you mean it hits close to home?” Sam asked quietly, diverting the subject away from himself the second he had the opportunity to because he would much rather talk about Dean just like Dean would much rather talk about Sam. “Do you see something similar?” 

“Do I see something similar? Yours isn’t real. It’s something your mind makes up, you know that, right?” Dean asked quietly, getting the slightest bit of a nod in return.   
  
Sam did know that it wasn’t real, mostly. In the moment he never did and when he thought back, it felt real. It felt so real. But logically, he could put together that some of the things he saw weren’t real. Lucifer and the voices themselves were still very real to him though, no matter what anyone said. “I know,” he said finally. 

“Right, well, uh.. What I saw.. It was. I was barely four. My mother, Kate Milligan.. She burned to death in an electrical fire that started in the ceiling of my old nursery. It broke my dad. It.. It broke  _ me. _ I didn’t say a word to anyone for almost a year after she died and I still.. I still haven’t coped with it. My mother’s screams still.. They still keep me up at night. I still lay awake at night wondering what my life could have been like. Thinking of how disappointed my mother would be in me if she hadn’t died. How I can’t.. How I couldn’t save her.” He didn’t notice that few tears had begun to slip down his cheeks. “I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even protect my mother.” 

“You were four, Dean,” Sam said with a small frown as he moved his other hand so he was holding one of Dean’s hands in both of his own. “You were four years old. You couldn’t have done anything. You were too young. It’s not your fault and you’ve got to know that to some extent at least.. You were too young to do anything.”

“It feels like it is. It will always feel that way. Like I should have been able to save her. Like it’s my fault. I can’t.. I can’t do anything right, Sam. Fuck,” Dean breathed out as he closed his eyes, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks when he did. “I couldn’t save her and even if she was alive, she’d be.. she’d be so fucking disappointed in me. I don’t know if I believe in Heaven and Hell and that sort of crap but god, Sam, if she’s watching me from Heaven.. She’s got to hate me. She’s got to be so angry that her son turned out to be so fucking pathetic.” 

“No. No, she wouldn’t. She loves you, Dean. So much. I’m sure of it. And she would be proud of you because you’re so amazing, Dean. You’re kind and sweet and.. and you’re a good person,” Sam said quietly as he gripped Dean’s hand even tighter, probably cutting off his circulation at least a little bit.” She wouldn’t be disappointed in you. She would be so proud. You’re so amazing, Dean --..Milligan?” Sam asked more than said.

“Winchester. They don’t put it on the hospital bands because some of the people in here are completely nuts and could possibly be stalkers or whatever. But obviously, you’re not like that so yeah, I’m Dean Winchester.” He hesitated for a second before continuing with a teasing tone to his voice. “The name’s Winchester, Dean Winchester.”   
  
“I’m Sam Campbell. Nice to meet you.” Sam murmured out with a small laugh because it seemed so uncharacteristic of the sad, depressed Dean he had come to know to do a James Bond impression but then again, he didn’t know Dean all that well on a personal level. Maybe that was how Dean was. Kind of dorky. The thought made Sam smile a little bit to himself before he continued. “But Dean, honestly, you’re so amazing. Your mother’s death isn’t your fault. You have to know that, right? You were just a kid. You can’t hold yourself responsible for it. You said it yourself. It was an electrical fire.” 

“Sam Campbell. Campbell is a familiar sounding last name,” Dean said with a small sigh, ignoring the rest of Sam words and grabbing his long-sleeved shirt from his bedside table with his free hand. He didn’t want to talk about his own mother but something about Sam’s last name was ringing a bell. His dad had known a Mary Campbell. Dean’s mother, Kate Milligan, had also known her. Dean had met her a few times but he hadn’t seen her ever again after his mother died. That was the only reason ‘Campbell’ rang a bell though. No one important.

“Look, Sam, I don’t want to talk about this, my mom, anymore. But I am glad you’re okay and if you want to keep talking about what you saw over breakfast we can do that. Let me go put this on and we can go to breakfast early,” Dean said quietly, deciding Sam didn’t need to hear his miserable life story especially if Sam was leaving in only a few week’s time as planned. 

Dean stepped into the bathroom, pulling the curtain and slipping his shirt off. He trailed his fingers over a few of the scars on his abdomen without much thought and then tugged the long-sleeved shirt on followed by the short-sleeved one he had been wearing before he let out a slow sigh. He stepped back out, offering Sam his hand as help up from the bed which Sam took and much to Dean’s surprise, Sam didn’t let go of it when they were standing up and he didn’t let go of it as they headed down the hall to the cafeteria area. 

They were the only ones in the room with the exception of one staff member and hot breakfast wasn’t out yet since it was around six thirty, not eight when everyone was usually woken up by staff for breakfast, so Dean finally let go of Sam’s hand, sending him over to their table and telling him he would grab something healthy for him which Sam agreed to. 

Dean watched Sam walk off before grabbing himself a single serving of sugary cereal with milk and Sam a vanilla yogurt and a separate bowl of granola and berries that Sam could mix in. He walked over to the table, sitting down and handing Sam his spoon. “Do you need me to test the yogurt, even if it’s in a sealed package?” He asked gently as he began to eat his own cereal.

_ “It’s a nuisance to him, Sam. He doesn’t like testing your food every single time you guys eat, you freak,” _ Lucifer said calmly in Sam’s ear before he joined them at the table while Sam took the yogurt from Dean silently while staring at Lucifer, forgetting to answer Dean’s question entirely. 

“Sam?” Dean asked gently, trying to bring Sam’s attention back to him. “Hey, bud. You okay? Do you want me to test it for you?”

“Not if it bothers you,” Sam replied quietly, his voice a little bit distant for a moment before he managed to glance at Dean again. “If it bothers you to do it, it’s okay. I don’t have to eat.” 

“Yes, you do have to eat,” Dean replied seriously as he opened up the container for Sam, using his spoon to take a small spoonful out of it when the staff member wasn’t looking and then placing a berry and some granola onto it before he ate it. “Not poisoned. Safe to eat. I promise. And it doesn’t bother me at all as long as it gets you to eat.”

“Promise? Not that it’s not poisoned but that it doesn’t bother you?” Sam asked as he poured the granola and berries into the yogurt cup, stirring them up and having to mentally prepare himself before he hesitantly took a bite, looking over at Dean with a form of puppy dog eyes as he waited for an answer.

“It doesn’t bother me. I swear on.. something. I don’t know. Your life, I guess,” Dean said as he continued to eat his cereal slowly, his gaze dropping to his bowl instead of at Sam because that look had Dean melting and he knew it. God, he was starting to fall for this kid and it was going to destroy him.

_ “So he’s lying. He wants you dead so he’s swearing on your life because he knows he’s lying.” _

“Why.. why would you swear on my life?” Sam asked quietly, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at Dean, taking another small bite of yogurt. “You’re supposed to swear on your own because that means if you’re not being honest, you die. Not me.”   
  
“Yeah, well.. I care a hell of a lot more about your life than I do about mine so it seemed fitting,” Dean murmured out quietly as he glanced up from his bowl, meeting Sam’s bright, beautiful eyes once again and just letting himself map out the golds in them for a couple seconds, something he didn’t know Sam also did in his own eyes, before he continued. “But if it helps, I swear on my life that it doesn’t bother me to test your food for you. As long as we’re around each other, I’ll keep doing it.” 

_ “He must really hate himself if he cares more about you than himself. You’re a freak. No one cares about you. Dean doesn’t care about you.” _

Sam frowned but nodded, pushing the yogurt around in the cup and letting his mind drift to what the psychologist had said that morning. Dean was suicidal and likely to act on it and Dean telling Sam that Sam’s life was more important to him than his own was only solidifying that thought even more. He tried to push the thoughts away and ignore the voices and Lucifer, focusing on the fact that Dean was still talking to him even though Sam had kissed him last night because that was a good thing to think about. They were still okay even after something like that and that was a relief. “Thank you,” he said finally after a long delay, silently going back to very slowly eating, forcing every bite down because that fear of being poisoned was ever present. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 60 kudos, guys. The hit counter's also going up and while I know that a majority of those hits aren't people who have actually read it and have just opened it, I still wanted to say a quick thank you to those of you who actually are continuing to read it and who have read up to this point. Also, thanks to Briauna (Becoming-Pathological on Tumblr) for the original idea of someone having a talk with Sam about the repercussions of getting close to Dean. As always, constructive criticism is always welcome!


	8. Don't Leave Me

****During the next week or so, Sam began to distance himself from Dean. He still was with Dean for most hours of the day but in the evenings, he started to go to his room a little bit earlier and after lunch, he would take some time to himself in his room instead of sitting with Dean outside. It wasn’t really conscious but those thoughts of Dean dying, Dean leaving him like everyone else, and even just the fact that he, personally, was leaving soon were beginning to really sink in and really have a strong effect on him. He didn’t want to deal with the pain that came along with losing Dean and so he started to avoid Dean. Not as much as possible, by any means, but more and more as the days passed and while Sam wasn’t noticing it, Dean was.

Because of the distance Sam was putting between them, Dean was starting to get worse and worse mentally. He would dissociate for more hours of the day, never remembering the tasks he did while dissociating. Chunks of his days were just gone from his memory more than they had ever been, even before Sam had entered the facility. He was also sleeping even less than he normally did which already wasn’t enough, averaging about two hours per night. What hurt Dean most was Sam pulling away from his touches like Sam had in the beginning. They were little things, things that he knew shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter that Sam didn’t press his leg against Dean’s under the table at meals anymore or that Sam no longer settled in close to his side under the big oak tree outside when they sat together. It shouldn’t matter and he knew it but it did to Dean and all Dean could feel was guilt because of it, guilt that was tearing him apart inside even though he had no idea what he had done to push Sam away. Regardless, it was making Dean feel heavy-hearted, broken. He hated it and the thoughts he had about his death and how to execute it were coming back tenfold in the moments when Sam wasn’t by his side. He knew that couldn’t be healthy but fuck, he didn’t care. He would rather have an unhealthy attachment to Sam than not have the kid in his life and he knew that, accepted it even. 

* * *

It was early Sunday morning, too early for the sun to even be up so it was dark in Dean’s room. Instead of sitting on the bed like he normally did, he was sitting near the door on the floor with his back against the wall. His legs were up close to his chest and his chin was resting on one knee, the world around him not the place he was mentally. He stayed that way for the over four hours, not noticing the nurse who came to wake his roommate and bring Dean to breakfast so consequently, he ended up missing it entirely. He missed his one-on-one therapy appointment after breakfast too despite the same nurse attempting to bring him back to reality to get him to go and he stayed there straight through group therapy and Sam’s one-on-one therapy session too.

It was only when there was a firm pressure on his side and he heard choked sobs did he slowly come back to the world around him, blinking a few times and glancing over in the direction of the pressure. Touch, deep pressure really, seemed to be the only way to bring Dean back to reality. Very rarely did people’s voices work and the nurses were under orders to not touch anyone, including him, unless absolutely necessary or for procedures, so they never touched him to bring him back but Sam didn’t hesitate to touch Dean, or well, he hadn’t until recently.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, carefully shifting to sit up straight. He was extremely dizzy and a little out of it still after having dissociated for so long but he could focus enough to tell that it was Sam leaning against him, causing the pressure on his side, and that Sam had tears streaming down his cheeks. “Sammy?” He asked hesitantly, blinking a few times and shaking his head to try to get himself fully sound of mind which didn’t quite work; it would take a little while before he was completely clear headed. He frowned as he carefully wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders, holding him close.

Sam slumped into him as if he didn’t have a single bone in his body the second that Dean’s arm was around him, closing his eyes and turning just enough to shove his face against Dean’s shoulders, his sobs only getting harder as Dean carefully maneuvered Sam into his lap, his arms tight around him.

“Hey, I’ve got you. What’s wrong, kiddo?” Dean asked in the soft voice that only Sam ever heard, one hand moving to the nape of Sam’s neck to hold him there. “I’ve got you.”

Sam only shook his head in response, not finding the strength to actually speak as he wrapped his arms around Dean in return, gripping the back of his shirt tightly in his fists. His shoulders had begun to shake with the sobs and while he was breathing normally, not hyperventilating, he seemed like he was about to break into pieces in Dean’s arms. He was clearly trying to force himself to stop crying but it wasn’t working at all.

Dean licked his lips slightly to moisten them, hugging Sam closer and not saying anything else as Sam continued to sob against his shoulder. Sam could talk to him if he wanted to but Dean wasn’t going to force anything out of him; he wasn’t going to push. He hesitantly tilted his head down enough to press a kiss to Sam’s clothed shoulder, murmuring out another soft, “I’m here, Sammy,” against his shirt after a few minutes of just holding Sam silently.

_“He’s not here. He’s not real. None of this is real, Sam. He’s going to disappear one day just like everyone else in your life.”_

“He’s real, shut up,” Sam choked out against Dean’s shoulder, clutching Dean’s shirt tighter as he turned his head so his face was pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck instead of against his shoulder. “He’s real. He’s real and he cares about me and he’s not leaving and you need to leave me alone,” he rambled out, his voice desperate but the sound muffled because he was speaking against Dean's skin. Right now, Sam couldn't care less about Dean's possible suicide, he just needed his friend and he needed Dean's touch and his arms around him. Everything else be damned.

_“He’s not real, Sam. And even if he was, he’s going to kill himself. He’s going to leave you behind.”_

“Uh..” Dean paused for just a second, realizing Sam wasn’t talking to him but he decided to respond anyway. “Yeah, Sammy. I’m here. I’m right here,” Dean said quietly, his head still dropped so he was speaking against Sam’s shoulder. “I’m real and I care about you,” he whispered out, repeating what Sam had said to, well, not him.

Sam lifted his head, trying to think of some way to convince himself that Dean was real and first attempting to count the freckles on Dean’s cheeks or map out Dean’s eyes but his vision was too blurry from the tears to really clearly see enough to do so which only made Dean feel even more like an illusion. In his desperation, his mind reverted back to what he had done the other night that had helped him make sure that Dean was real. He was still crying hard and his shoulders were still shaking but he lifted his head enough to press his lips to Dean’s like he had done the other day in a desperate, salty kiss.

Dean reached up, carefully placing his hands on Sam’s cheeks and moving Sam’s face away from his own a little bit to both break the kiss and so he could look into his eyes, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s. “Kiddo, look at me. Look me in the eyes,” he whispered calmly, ignoring the kiss entirely. “I’m real. You know it, too. You know I’m real. I know deep down you know that I’m real.”

_“He’s mad at you for kissing him. You couldn't have fucked up more. Twice now, Sam. Twice you’ve screwed yourself over. He should punch you in the face, faggot. I bet he’s going to.”_

“Please don’t punch me,” Sam breathed out as his hands moved from gripping the back of Dean’s shirt to holding onto his shoulders, tears still streaming down his cheeks but his own shoulders no longer shaking because he was finally starting to calm down a little bit after the discussion he’d had in his therapy session. It also helped that he was almost certain that Dean was real. His mind couldn’t make up a kiss that felt as amazing as that, even if Dean didn’t kiss back. Dean’s mouth against his was something he knew he couldn’t imagine, at least he desperately hoped it was something he couldn’t imagine. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a faggot and.. and I shouldn’t have done that, I know, but please don’t punch me.”

“Language, first of all. That’s a shitty term to use,” Dean murmured out softly, his thumbs wiping off the tears from Sam’s cheeks even though they were continuing to fall. “And second, I’m never going to punch you. Certainly not for kissing me. You can kiss me whenever you want to.” Dean hadn’t quite thought through the words he had just said and he went a little red in the fact when he realized, quickly attempting to correct himself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like..” He trailed off, unable to think of anything else he could possibly have meant.

“You meant it like..?” Sam asked quietly, hating the hope that started to bloom in his chest. This was a good way to change the conversation away from himself and maybe Dean meant it in the way it had sounded. That he didn’t mind Sam kissing him. He was still crying just a little bit but after being assured that Dean was there with him and then this little blossom of hope appearing, he was starting to feel a little bit better.

“Okay, so I meant it exactly like it sounded but that’s.. That’s not a discussion for right now. Right now, I need you to talk to me about what’s wrong,” Dean murmured out softly, kind of wanting to, instead of punching Sam, punch himself at the moment because how the hell could he have let that slip? He hoped they wouldn’t end up talking about it at any point. Sam really didn’t need to know that Dean had developed feelings for him, especially because Dean knew Sam couldn’t have any feelings back; no one wanted Dean and he knew and accepted that.

_“He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want to kiss you. He’s messing with you. He’s screwing with your feelings. You’ll never end up talking about it.”_

“Promise me we’ll talk about it later?” Sam asked quietly, letting one of his hands trail down from Dean’s shoulder and down Dean’s chest slowly, his gaze following his hand so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eye.

“I promise. Are you calm enough to talk to me right now about why you were crying or do we need to sit here and relax for a while longer?” Dean asked gently, placing his hand over Sam’s hand that was traveling down his chest to stop its movement directly over his heart.

“I need a little while,” Sam admitted quietly, letting himself focus on the rhythmic beating of Dean’s heart and leaning back against him, his head resting on Dean’s shoulder again as he shut his eyes. He kept his focus on Dean’s heart as he took slow, steady breaths, calming himself down over the next few minutes until the tears stopped flowing and he felt like he could breathe properly.

Dean kept his hand over Sam’s, his thumb rubbing soothing circles onto the back of it until Sam sat back up in his lap again when he was calm. “Ready to talk?” Dean asked gently, giving Sam’s hand a little, reassuring squeeze when Sam nodded. “Good. I’m ready to listen.”

“They don’t think I’m ready to get out,” Sam said after finally collecting his thoughts for a few seconds. “They don’t think I’m stable enough to go home, Dean. I’m going to.. I’m going to miss the start of my senior year. My grades, my whole life.. It’s.. it’s all going to crash and burn. I’m never going to get into a good college. I’m never going to get to go to law school. They’re keeping me in this place..”

_“They’re keeping you here because they want all of your plans to be destroyed. They want you to fail in your life. A fuck up like you should never succeed. You will never succeed, Sam.”_

Dean felt so incredibly selfish for the wave of relief that flooded over him. Sam wasn’t leaving him yet. But he knew he needed to be honest with Sam, despite how much he wanted Sam to stay with him. “Sam, they can’t.. uh, they can’t keep you here. You’re technically classified as sound of mind, to an extent, and.. and you’re not a danger to yourself or anyone else.. So if you really can’t bear the thought of staying in here, there are documents you can sign saying you want to leave against the advice of the doctors and.. and that’s it, you can leave.”

“I can leave without them discharging me? That’s a thing?” Sam asked quietly, glancing up from Dean’s hand to meet his eyes, a confused but hopeful look on his features. “How do I do it? Do I tell them I’m leaving and they can’t stop me?”

“It’s not exactly like that but yes, you can leave. If I’m being completely honest with you though, Sam, I don’t.. I don’t think that you should leave,” Dean admitted honestly and while he did have some ulterior motives as to why he wanted Sam to stay, he also knew that Sam’s doctors were right. Sam was still unstable and not ready to return to school. “I think you still need the help that comes with this place.”

_“He thinks you’re so fucked up that you need to stay here in this place. He doesn’t want you to go. He wants you to stay locked up for the rest of your life. Forever. Can’t have a freak like you out in the real world.”_

“I don’t want to be in here for the rest of my life,” Sam whispered out as he let his eyes search Dean’s, trying to find some kind of answer in them for what to do. “I don’t want to stay here.”

“It wouldn’t be for the rest of your life and I really do wish you were healthy enough to get out, kiddo, but you’re not. You’re still not doing well. Your medications aren’t perfect or even good yet. You’re still terrified to eat unless I test things for you. You’re not doing great. You’re not ready to go home.”

“I want to go home so bad though, Dean,” Sam said quietly as he moved his hand off Dean’s heart to reach up and touch Dean’s cheek, skimming the tips of his fingers over Dean’s pale, freckled skin. “I want to go home to my mom and.. and my room, my stuff, my life. This place.. This isn’t my life. I just want to go back to being normal.”

“I know. I want to get out of here too, Sam, but we’re in here for a reason. Because we need help. And you need to accept the help they’re giving you,” Dean whispered as he reached up to cover Sam’s hand where it was resting on his face. “This place is here to help us. The doctors are here to help, the nurses, the aides. Everyone is here to help us. You need to accept that help.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” Sam said blatantly before he could think through the accusation, his hand dropping from Dean’s face. He let his eyes lock onto Dean’s even as Dean furrowed his eyebrows in a look of confusion. “Yeah, you heard me, Dean. You’re a hypocrite. You say they’re here to help us. You say that I need to accept help but all you do is refuse to be helped. You haven’t taken a pill since I’ve known you. You’ve told me that you don’t talk to your therapist. You’ve never participated in group therapy. You, Dean Winchester, are a hypocrite. You can’t.. You can’t tell me to get help when you refuse to do exactly that.”

Dean’s jaw went a little bit slack in surprise because damn, he had not been expecting to be called out like that but thinking about it, Sam wasn’t wrong. He was being a bit of a hypocrite. “If I start taking the medications they try to give me and start talking to my therapist, will you stay until they think you’re ready to go so you can get the help you need?” Dean didn’t know why the hell he was offering something like this to Sam but he needed Sam to get better and he knew that he was willing to do the treatments he had been refusing since the day he’d been admitted if Sam was willing to stay to get help because of it.

“You would do that for me? I mean, yes. If you start accepting help, I’ll stay,” Sam said quietly, reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes, a little bit of genuine shock in his voice. He had not been expecting that. He’d been expecting Dean to say a ‘fine’ and maybe storm off, leaving Sam to get out when he pleased to. He had definitely not been expecting Dean to offer to do something he knew Dean absolutely did not want to do if it meant Sam staying.

“Yeah. I would do that for you, Sam. Hell, I would do anything for you,” Dean admitted with a slight laugh, something Sam had never ever heard before. Dean laughing, Sam decided, was the best sound he had ever heard. It was beautiful, even if this laugh had been short and somewhat sad.

_“He wouldn’t do anything for you. He has no reason to. He doesn’t care about you.”_

“You would do anything for me? Why?” Sam asked quietly as he moved his hand back to Dean’s cheek, now more cupping his jaw than only touching Dean’s face with his fingertips.

Dean shook his head slightly with a small, sad smile on his lips. “I don’t know, kiddo. I really don’t. But I do know that I would do absolutely anything if it meant you got better. I would do anything to make you happy. You mean way too fucking much to me and I don’t know why that is but you do and honestly, I wouldn’t change it for the world.” God, he was so gone for this boy and he knew it. It was going to break him eventually but for the time being, he couldn’t care less.

“Why don’t you kiss me back then?” Sam asked timidly, glancing at the wall behind Dean because he couldn’t bear to look at his friend when he was talking about something like this. “That falls into ‘anything,’ doesn’t it? It would make me happy.”  
  
_“Because he doesn’t want to kiss you, you faggot. He’s not gay and even if he were, he wouldn’t want your sorry ass.”_

“Because you’ve only been doing it to make sure I’m real?” Dean asked more than said because suddenly, he wasn’t sure if that was true. Maybe there had been some other reason Sam had kissed him? The butterflies that he was beginning to feel were something he hadn’t felt in a long long time and while yeah, it meant he was anxious, it wasn’t necessarily a bad kind of anxious like his normal anxiety. It was more of a hopeful anxiety. “That’s the only reason you’ve been doing it, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam said quietly as he glanced up but the fact that Dean’s face fell at the statement actually gave him a boost of confidence because Dean looked disappointed that that was the only reason. “I mean, no.”

“No?”

“No. That’s not the only reason. It’s one of the reasons, yes,” Sam replied quietly as he took a deep breath, searching Dean’s eyes to see if there was anger in them because there was nothing he wanted less than for Dean to be angry with him. If that anger was there, Sam was going to leave as quickly as possible. “But it’s not the only reason.”

“It’s.. not the only reason,” Dean repeated slowly before falling silent, lips slightly parted as he looked up at Sam in a bit of awe. It took him a solid minute before he hesitantly asked, “wait, you’re gay?”

_“Lie to him so he doesn’t know you’re a faggot, Sam. Tell him you messed up by telling him you wanted to kiss him or he’s going to hate you.”_

“No. I’m not,” Sam said honestly, ignoring the thoughts and voices and letting out a small sigh. He wasn’t gay, he knew that, but yeah, he did like a guy. “I’m not gay. I’m not. At least, I don’t think I am. But you, you’re different. It doesn’t matter that you’re a guy. I thought it did at first but it doesn’t. I like you for you, Dean. I don’t care if you’re a guy; I like you.”

“You like me.. for me?” Dean repeated slowly because he was more than a little bit confused. People didn’t like him for him. He was a shitty person who couldn’t do anything right and he knew it so what did Sam actually mean? And Sam had said he didn’t want sex so he had absolutely no idea what Sam could possibly want. The only people who ever pursued him were women who wanted sex because yeah, he had a pretty face but he didn’t have a dateable personality or any other good qualities, in his opinion. He was way too fucked up for that. “Wait, but you don’t want sex, why the hell would you like me?”

“What does sex have to do with it?” Sam asked as he furrowed his eyebrows before the crease between them smoothed out and his lips parted, a look of realization and what could only be described as mild despair spread on his features. Dean didn’t like him because Sam had said he never wanted to have sex. “Dean, if you want sex, I can have sex with you if that’s the problem, if that’s why you don’t want me,” he said quickly, reaching to grip the front of Dean’s shirt in one of his hands because he needed to hold onto something. “I’m sorry. I can have sex with you if that’s what you want.”

As much as he had felt that he never wanted sex, he had been having more sexual thoughts in the last couple weeks. Of Dean only, which was weird but it made him feel a little less broken because if he could be sexually attracted to Dean, someone he knew and cared for, maybe he could want sex after all. But it also made him worried about being fucked up because he knew he shouldn't be sexually attracted to Dean. Being romantically attracted to him was enough.  
_  
_ _“He doesn’t want you because you’re a freak who won’t have sex with him.”_

“Hey, woah. Slow down. Kiddo, take a deep breath,” Dean said calmly as he reached up, placing both of his hands on Sam’s cheeks and offering him a tiny little smile. “Deep breath and listen to me. That’s not it. That’s not it at all. You wanting or not wanting sex has nothing to do with any of it.”

Sam took a deep breath under Dean’s instructions, nodding when he had calmed down a little bit. “Okay. I’m listening,” he murmured out as he placed his hand on Dean’s bare arm, noticing the feeling of the scars under his fingertips but not saying anything about them because they didn’t matter to him anyway. They were just another part of Dean. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Dean promised as he skimmed his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone. “I’m never going to lie to you.” He took a deep breath as well, mentally preparing himself. “I like you, Sam. Fuck, I like you so fucking much. But I’m not worthy of you liking me and I’m not.. relationship worthy at all. You’re so wonderful and amazing and perfect to me, Sammy. And me..” He shook his head as he looked down. “People, people don’t like me. I’m far too fucked up to have any sort of.. of relationship. It’s not even worth trying. I’m a fucking mess.”

“So you do like me too then? Even though I’m a guy?” Sam asked quietly as his grip on Dean’s shirt loosened just a little bit, a sense of relief flooding through him. He was totally ignoring all of the rest of what Dean said because he didn’t care about any of that. Dean wasn’t mad. Dean wasn’t going to hurt him. Dean liked him back. Today had started out shitty but right now, Sam was hopeful, even though he was going to be here for longer than he wanted to be. It just meant more time with Dean at least which was good.

“I don’t care that you’re a guy. I mean, girls are great but I like guys too,” Dean murmured out quietly. “Well, kind of. I’ve never actually been with a guy but I’ve definitely had a lot of crushes on guys, thought about guys when doing.. things. But anyways, no, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re a guy. I also like you for you, kiddo, just like you said. You’re a wonderful, amazing, brilliant guy. I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like you.”

_“Because you’re a freak.”_

“Because I’m a freak,” Sam said quietly, looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes with a shy smile on his lips despite the words because for a moment, despite the voices, he was feeling kind of normal and happy. Dean liked him back.

“Yeah, well, I’m a freak too,” Dean whispered out, reaching to skim his thumb over Sam’s bottom lip which prompted Sam to slowly lean in. Dean met him halfway, removing his thumb before their lips pressed together in a slow and tender kiss. This one felt right. It felt so real to both of them. Neither had their eyes open and there was no panic there, no desperation to make sure that Dean was real, none of it. It was just a normal kiss and to Sam, it felt like the most amazing thing in the world and for once, Dean didn’t pull away.

A kind of warmth settled in Dean’s chest even when Sam pulled away, a loving little smile on his lips. He was happy and while he knew it was only temporary and that the darkness would take back over soon enough, he let himself savor it, his hand moving to take Sam’s. He was happy until he realized something. “Is this just a ‘while we’re in here’ thing or do you actually want to try to make this work? Have this be a real.. something.”

“I want this to last for as long as possible, Dean. Even when we get out,” Sam replied honestly before realizing that maybe that wasn’t what Dean wanted. “But if you don’t want to try to do this after we get out, we don’t have to. Of course not. Whatever you want to give me, I’ll take.”

“I want this to last,” Dean replied as he moved his hand back to Sam’s cheek, very carefully drawing him down into another kiss, their lips seeming to meld perfectly together and this kiss continued slowly until someone was walking into the room and clearing their throat.

Dean broke the kiss and looked up to see a nurse there in the doorway and he quickly helped Sam off his lap. “We weren’t touching,” he said as he looked up at her, carefully pushing himself off the ground but almost falling at first because he’d been sitting for so long that he got dizzy when he stood.

“You were,” she said as she offered him a genuine, gentle smile. “It’s alright. There’s only so much we can prevent. Legally, we’re required to allow you to have consensual sexual contact with another patient as long as you’re both sound of mind. You’re both consenting adults. The right to respect regarding your private life is taken seriously here. You two wouldn’t be the first to engage in anything within the facility anyways. You’d be surprised at how many people do.”

“Wait, really? That’s a thing?” Sam asked as he took Dean’s hand when he was offered it, standing up with his help but dropping his hand once they were standing up to push his hair from his eyes. “That’s cool, I guess. So we can’t.. you know, get in trouble for it?”  
  
“No, you can’t. Like I said, you’re both consenting adults, you’re sound of mind, and as long as no other patients are impacted by your relationship, we can’t and won’t stop you.”

“That’s.. actually really awesome. Huh. Well, thanks, do you need something?” Dean asked as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Or..?”

“It’s your hourly check-in. That’s all. Just needed to know where you were, Sam, Dean. You should get yourselves a snack though. You both missed breakfast,” she said calmly, offering them a little smile before she left the room.

“They can’t stop us. That’s actually really reassuring,” Dean said as he moved to sit down on the bed, patting the bed beside himself as a gesture for Sam to join him. “Do you want this to be what she said? A relationship? I do.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Sam said as he moved to sit down beside Dean, a little, soft smile on his lips as he took Dean’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I guess I'm staying, hm? As long as you keep your word about accepting help too.”

“I will,” Dean replied as he gave Sam’s hand a tight squeeze before grabbing the blanket to pull it over their laps. “Whatever it takes to get you better.”


	9. Demiromantic, Demisexual

Over the next few days, almost nothing good changed with the dynamic of the boys. In fact, they got more awkward around each other because both didn't really know how to go about a relationship. Sam had dated one or two girls when he was in middle school, half a decade ago, and Dean was a one-night stand kind of guy who couldn’t do commitment due to copious amounts of self-doubt so a relationship, which they had defined whatever this was as, was totally out of both of their comfort zones. They hadn't even kissed again since their conversation and they only held hands for a few minutes a day despite being together almost all hours of the day again.

On the third day of them being awkward as hell, Dean began to think that maybe this had been a mistake. He wanted his friend back and this starting a relationship thing was tearing a rift between them. So after breakfast, after therapy, when they normally headed outside, Dean slipped his hand into Sam's, lacing their fingers together, and changing their course towards the far corner of the yard, near the tall wooden fence, as far away from everyone as possible and most importantly, out of earshot because they needed to talk.

Sam frowned at him in confusion as he walked with Dean, sitting down when Dean did and dropping his hand. “Everything okay?” Sam asked hesitantly as he started to pick at the blades of grass on his left side where Dean wasn't sitting.

“No,” Dean said seriously with a small frown. “I mean, I'm okay and I hope you are too. But us, we're not,” he murmured out quietly, glancing over at Sam and gently plucking one of the blades of grass from between Sam's fingers to mess with it himself. “I think this was a bad idea, trying to be more than friends so fast. Something's wrong. It's weird between us and I don't like it.”

_“He's realized how fucked up you are, Sam. He doesn't want you anymore. He realized that he made a mistake.”_

Sam felt sadness start to build inside his chest and he reached up to wipe his eyes because even though tears weren't yet flowing, he felt like they would soon. It was moments like these when he found himself feeling jealous of the fact that he knew Dean only felt numbness and then guilt for being jealous of something that he knew destroyed his friend, boyfriend, whatever.

“You're right,” Sam breathed out as he forced himself up from the ground with the help of the fence. “I knew you'd regret it. It's okay that we’re not going to.. be more, I guess. I don't blame you,” he whispered out before heading towards the building quickly.

  
“Sam, hey, no, wait,” Dean said quietly, pushing himself up from the ground and almost falling because he got hit with a wave of dizziness. He took a few breaths, the dizziness not going away but he knew he had to go after Sam anyways, even if he felt like he was going to fall. He started towards the building, heading inside and towards their rooms. When he made his way into Sam’s and saw Sam on the bed, he moved to sit down beside him. “You didn’t let me finish, kiddo. I wasn’t going to say we should stop this. I was just thinking that something’s blocking us and I don’t know what it is.”

_“You won’t have sex with him, that’s the obstacle.”_

“If it’s because I said I don’t want sex, I think I was wrong anyway. I know you said it doesn’t matter but that can’t be true,” Sam said quietly, playing with the hem of his flannel, eyes mapping out the plaid on it so he wouldn’t have to look at Dean.

“It doesn’t matter. Honest. I like you, Sam. Screw sex,” Dean said as he shifted so their knees were touching. “And what do you mean you think you were wrong?”

“I think I was wrong,” Sam said again as he took a deep breath, working up the courage to reluctantly look up at Dean. “I said to you a while back that I thought I was asexual and I don’t think that’s true anymore because I’ve been thinking about you.. like that.”

_“Sure, tell him you’re a perverted faggot who thinks of him while showering, what could go wrong?”_

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, reaching to gently push Sam’s hair from his eyes. “That’s okay, kiddo. You’re still figuring things out. Nothing wrong with that. I had an acquaintance back in sophomore year who thought I might be aromantic because I had a lot of sex but never wanted a relationship with anyone. Clearly, I’m not though because as we got closer, I started being romantically attracted to you. So sexuality can change.”

“Demiromantic,” Sam said quietly as he looked back and forth between Dean’s eyes, Dean’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“What?”  
  
“Demiromantic. That sounds like what you described,” Sam clarified quietly as he reached to hesitantly take Dean’s hand. “Only having a romantic attraction to someone you’ve become emotionally close to.”

“Fancy,” Dean said teasingly with a slight smile. “Is there one of those for sexual attraction? ‘Cause maybe that’s what you are. You said you’re sexually attracted to me and we’re close, right? Were you sexually attracted to me when we first met?”

_“Don’t tell him. He’s going to think you’re a pervert. Lie to him.”_

“There’s nothing to lie about,” Sam said aloud despite it not being Dean that had said anything. “No. I wasn’t. It’s recent. In the last two weeks or so but no, three and a half, four months ago, I wasn’t sexually attracted to you.”

“So is there a word for that then? Demiromantic but with sex?” Dean asked gently, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

“I’d assume it’s demisexual,” Sam said quietly. “I guess that’s what I am then. So I’m not _completely_ broken.”

“Broken? Even if you were asexual, you wouldn’t be broken, Sam,” Dean said seriously, hesitantly leaning in which Sam did as well and he pressed a short kiss to Sam’s lips before pulling back. “You’re not broken. I promise.”

_“Yes, you are.”_

“That’s not what they say,” Sam admitted quietly as he scooted closer, moving his left leg so it was resting overtop of Dean’s right, his free hand moving to Dean’s cheek. Despite all the voices screaming at him to stop, telling that Dean would get mad, he leaned in, fitting his mouth to Dean’s in a slow kiss.

Dean reciprocated it immediately with the same slow tenderness, his eyes falling shut as his hand moved to cover up Sam’s on his cheek. Even though Sam was exactly the same height as him, his hands were significantly bigger and so Dean figured that Sam probably wasn’t done growing; he had just recently turned 18, after all.

The kiss stayed slow but didn’t stop within a few moments as their kisses normally did, neither of them ever wanting to pull away. Sam, knowing, hoping that Dean probably wouldn’t try anything because Sam had said he didn’t want sex, decided that maybe he needed to be the one to initiate things so he let himself hesitantly lick over Dean’s bottom lip, Dean parting his lips in response without a moment of hesitation.

Sam took it as a good sign, hesitating for a moment before he got the nerve to ease his tongue into Dean’s mouth, letting their tongues dance together. After a solid few minutes of them kissing, Sam decided that he was going to be bold and if Dean didn’t like it, Dean could push him off. So he broke the kiss before carefully moving to straddle Dean’s lap, making Dean laugh slightly, softly, as he looked up at Sam, a little smile resting on his lips.

_“He’s laughing at you. He’s making fun of you. Get off him.”_

“Sorry, do you.. I can get off you,” Sam mumbled out quickly but he didn’t get a verbal response from Dean, instead getting Dean’s hand on his face and his mouth pressed against Sam’s again. Sam smiled against his lips, not hesitating this time to carefully suck on Dean’s bottom lip which drew a small, almost-moan out of Dean causing Dean to pull back abruptly.

“Not good?” Sam asked nervously as he met Dean’s eyes.

“Too good. You’re going to, uh, turn me on. Sitting on my lap and kissing me like that,” Dean said with a slight shrug, a blush spreading over his freckled cheeks.

“Is that a bad thing? I told you I was sexually attracted to you,” Sam said factually, tilting his head a little bit to the side in confusion. Was Dean the one who didn't want sex?

_“He’s not sexually attracted to you.”_

“Yeah, you did, but that doesn’t mean.. Do you want to.. mess around? I mean, it’s all a little new. Are you ready to do things like that?” Dean asked hesitantly, reaching up to touch Sam’s cheek reassuringly, his expression kind and patient because this was about Sam and it always would be.

“I mean.. Yeah, I guess so. I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Sam murmured out a little bit shyly, looking down at his lap. “And remember, the nurse the other day said they can’t stop us, so why not?”

“It’s not private here in the room. No doors, you have a roommate,” Dean pointed out as he cupped Sam’s cheek, drawing him down to place a short kiss on the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t like him to be hesitant about anything sexual but he wasn’t entirely sure that Sam actually wanted something like this after everything Sam had said.

“If you don’t want to, we don’t have to, Dean. Be honest with me. But I.. I want to.”

_“He doesn’t want you, you freak.”_

Dean carefully moved Sam off his lap before standing up, Sam’s whole expression falling and his shoulders slumping just a little bit. “Oh,” Sam whispered out, having genuinely not been expecting Dean's rejection despite the voices. Dean had a habit of going against what the voices told him so Dean doing exactly what the voices had said he would do was a bit disheartening.

“No ‘oh.’ I’m not rejecting you,” Dean said as he offered Sam his hand. “Come on. Our bathrooms are the only private places in this place. I want to kiss you, touch you, without worrying that a nurse or your roommate or anyone is going to walk in.”

Sam carefully took Dean’s hand, standing up. A small blush spread over his cheeks because Dean talking about kissing and touching him was a nice thought but still, thinking about sex was one thing, having it was a totally different ball game and suddenly, he was starting to get extremely nervous as they walked into the bathroom.  
  
“We’re not having sex,” Dean said as soon as the curtain separating the bathroom from the room was closed. “Not today. Maybe someday for now, but let’s just.. take a shower together for now, how does that sound?” Dean suggested, glancing in the mirror at the two of them and looking at Sam’s reflection specifically. “You’re not going from zero sex straight into sex, no way. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make out in the shower,” he added with a small hum, making Sam smile and laugh a little bit, his nerves cooling down because, for the time being, he had forgotten about the fact that showers were something one didn’t take in clothing.

As Dean started to take his short-sleeved shirt off from on top of his long-sleeved undershirt, that was when it clicked to Sam that they were going to be nude, making his cheeks burn bright red as he followed suit and started to slowly unbutton his flannel.

“My body’s practically the definition of a disaster. I, uh, I have a lot of scars,” Dean said as he folded up the short-sleeved shirt, setting it on the counter and not yet taking off the long-sleeved one. “I don’t mean a lot like ten.. twenty, whatever. I mean hundreds, maybe thousands. You’ve seen the ones on my arms but that’s nothing compared to the rest,” he murmured out hesitantly. “On my thighs, waist, and arms. I just, I want to warn you before any more of my clothes come off so you’re not.. shocked. Being naked around people in the light, when they can actually see me, isn’t something I’ve ever done before so you’ll be the first other than the nurse who does my skin check every week to see me naked.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Sam mumbled out with a slight laugh, smiling softly at Dean. “I won’t judge you. I’m sure they’re not bad.”

“You better also not do that cliché-as-fuck kissing my scars thing; it’s weird. I don’t hate them. I don’t even dislike them. They’re a part of my body and that’s all they are,” Dean said as he took a deep breath, carefully tugging his long-sleeved shirt up and over his head.

A small, sad gasp managed to bubble out of Sam and he placed one hand over his mouth to shut himself up, mumbling out a, “sorry.” Yeah, Dean had warned him but Sam could never have imagined just how many scars littered Dean’s torso. They were primarily concentrated on his hips, waist, and forearms that Sam could see but Dean was also still wearing pants. Dean was also a lot thinner than Sam had expected him to be. The clothes he wore here in the hospital were essentially scrubs without pockets so they made him look a little bit boxy and apparently, they made him look like he weighed a lot more than he actually did because Dean was definitely underweight.

“Don’t be sorry. I know there’s a lot,” Dean said with a small sigh, reaching to take Sam’s hand away from his mouth and stepping closer. “I don’t mind them. Hopefully, you don’t either.”

“No. I, no, I don’t,” Sam said quietly, not being able to resist reaching out and skimming his fingers over the scars on Dean’s hip with a small frown. “They’re beautiful. I wish you didn’t do this to yourself.”

“They’re not beautiful, kiddo. They’re mutilations of my body. Doesn’t mean they’re awful either but beautiful isn’t the word. They’re just there. Not beautiful, not ugly. A part of my body, nothing more,” Dean said with a slight shrug, hesitantly reaching up to wrap his arms loosely around Sam’s neck as Sam’s hand splayed flat on his hip, holding onto it. “And honestly, I wish I had never started it either because it became.. an addiction, almost. I still feel the need to do it constantly. It’s.. I don’t know, kiddo. I can’t explain it. It helped me, _helps_ me. But they don’t matter. You matter, this, us. We matter. My scars don’t. They’re another part of my body. Kind of like my freckles.”

Sam nodded slowly, letting his gaze drift up Dean’s chest to his face, looking over him for a few moments before he spoke. “You need to eat more,” he whispered, suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were.

“Yeah, well, so do you,” Dean whispered back but the conversation stopped as Dean used one hand to carefully push Sam’s unbuttoned flannel off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before he fit his lips to Sam’. All of that awkwardness from the past three days was gone for the time being, almost as if some kind of obstacle had been passed.

Sam pulled back after a long while to smile lightly at Dean. “I know you said you don’t think your scars are beautiful but you are.”

“You’re such a girl,” Dean teased but he couldn’t help but blush at the comment and smile at his boyfriend. Boyfriend. That was a weird thought. Not a bad weird. Sam was his boyfriend. Nice weird. “Come on, let’s hop into the shower.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam said as he took a deep breath, pulling away from Dean fully and going to turn on the water to a moderately warm temperature before he stepped away to carefully slip his jeans off.

_“Don’t get naked in front of him. He’s going to laugh at you.”_

“He wouldn’t do that,” Sam said quietly as he turned to look at Dean, slipping his briefs off.

“I wouldn’t do what?” Dean asked as he took his own pants and boxers off, walking towards the shower and not noticing that Sam’s eyes had somewhat locked onto his butt.

“Laugh at me--..” Before Dean could respond though, Sam continued. “You have freckles on your ass,” he exclaimed with a small laugh escaping him. So, apparently, Sam was going to be the one laughing at Dean's body and not the other way around. “Sorry. I don’t know why that’s surprising.” It was surprising to him but more importantly, blatantly staring at Dean’s butt kind of confirmed one thing for him: he was definitely sexually attracted to Dean.

“Yes, I do,” Dean confirmed with an amused smile, holding the curtain open so Sam could step into the small, cramped shower with him. “I have them all over but mostly on my face, shoulders, and yes, _my ass,_ ” Dean said with a small laugh, feeling lighter than he had in a long time because this was Sam and Dean was pretty sure Sam was the only one in the world he felt genuinely comfortable around.

“They’re cute,” Sam said with a little smile before frowning. “Is that weird?” He asked as he carefully placed his hand back on Dean’s hip, not minding the feeling of the raised scars beneath his palms; in fact, he let his thumb skim over one of the more prominent ones, just to do something with his hand as he stepped closer to Dean.

“Embarrassing for me, maybe. Weird, no,” Dean replied with a little smile, moving one hand to rest on the center of Sam’s chest as the water poured down Sam’s back, pretty much shielding Dean from it.

“You’ve been smiling more today than I’ve ever seen,” Sam said quietly as he used his free hand to guide Dean’s free hand up to rest on his [Sam’s] shoulder, stepping closer. “You have a beautiful smile, Dean.” Treating Dean somewhat like he had treated the few girls he had dated seemed to be making Dean happy and Sam liked it too so he was going to continue doing it, even if Dean was a guy. It couldn't be particularly different. 

Dean smiled back at him as he moved his hand to rest on the nape of Sam’s neck instead of resting on his shoulder, drawing him down into a kiss. Like their last few kisses, this one, too, was unhurried because it felt like they had all the time in the world to soak each other in. Despite it being slow, it was more passionate than the others had been and Sam found himself focusing solely on the feeling of Dean’s lips moving perfectly with his own instead of the voices echoing around him.

For a few minutes, the world only consisted of them, their lips moving together in perfect sync, their bodies eventually pressing together under the steady flow of warm water until the break from reality was shattered by a female voice.

“Sam?”

_“Oh no. You’ve been caught. Everyone will know you’re a faggot now.”_

“Yeah, I’m here. Taking a shower!” Sam called back as was routine for when a nurse came in for hourly check-in while someone was showering. His grip tightened on Dean’s hip, anxiety coursing through him for a moment.

Dean took a deep breath, really not wanting to do this but he knew the faculty would freak if he had seemingly gone missing. “Dean’s here; I’m here too,” he called out, hearing the smile in the nurse’s voice as she said her ‘alright’ back to them.

As soon as her footsteps faded away and she was gone, Dean moved his hand from the nape of Sam’s neck to wrap his arm around it, pulling him closer so there wasn’t any space between their bodies, except the space caused by his hand on Sam’s chest. “We’ve got an hour before next check in,” he whispered out before he pressed his lips to Sam’s again, this kiss fervent but still gentle.

Sam’s body started to react to the touching and kissing before his brain had caught up with everything and it was only when Dean pulled away that he realized he was half hard, his erection pressed against Dean’s thigh. His face went bright red with embarrassment and he pointedly avoided Dean's eyes as he spoke next. “Guess that confirms that I'm sexually attracted to you,” he mumbled out under his breath. He was a teenager after all; a little bit of making out with someone he was attracted to was definitely enough to get him hard.

Dean moved his hand up from Sam's chest to his cheek, his touch gentle. “Look at me, kiddo,” he said calmly, causing Sam to reluctantly meet his eyes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Can I.. uh, touch you?” It felt weird asking considering everyone he had ever been with, that was the only goal, getting off, but with Sam, it was different; this was more than just a fling.

“I've never..” Sam trailed off. He had never done anything past kissing, making out, with someone else because he'd never gotten turned on by anyone else but he wanted this with Dean.

“I know,” Dean said gently, his thumb skimming over Sam's cheekbone gently. “Relax, take a deep breath. I won't do anything that you're uncomfortable with, Sammy. I promise. I’ll take care of you.”

“I trust you,” Sam replied quietly as he smiled almost shyly back at Dean as Dean trailed his hand back down Sam's body, carefully wrapping his hand around Sam's cock. Sam couldn't help the small moan that escaped him even at only the light touch. 

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes falling shut as his forehead dropped to rest against Dean’s shoulder. “Earlier.. Earlier you said we weren’t okay.. Are we--” He was cut off by a small moan as Dean’s thumb brushed over his slit.  
  
“Yeah, we’re okay. I think we’re past being awkward now,” Dean replied softly even though Sam had been cut off. “Can I..” Dean trailed off as he carefully took his hand off of Sam’s cock, sinking down to his knees in front of Sam and letting his hands rest on Sam’s thighs.

Sam’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to say something but no words came out for a solid few seconds. “You want to do _that?_ ” Sam asked finally. Seeing Dean down on his knees in front of him was only turning him on more in a way he didn’t know was possible before today. “Please, god, yes, Dean,” he breathed out as soon as Dean’s mouth was on him.

Dean was a pleaser by nature. With women, he always made sure they orgasmed, even if it took him touching them, eating them out for half an hour after actual sex sometimes. He would do whatever it took to make his partner feel good and Sam was no exception. Lucky for Sam, Dean knew his way around a dick, at least orally.

Dean let his eyes fall shut as he slowly licked a stripe up from the base of Sam’s cock to the tip before taking the tip in his mouth, sucking hard on it and causing Sam to groan loudly as he tried to think of somewhere to put his hands, one of them eventually tangling in Dean’s hair and the other bracing against the wall.

Dean took his time, drawing out moan after moan from Sam as he worked on only Sam’s tip for the first minute or so before he started to use his tongue along the shaft, getting Sam’s cock slick, wet. Eventually, he leaned in, taking most of Sam in his mouth and swallowing hard to get him as deep as he could; it had been a while since Dean had done this last but Dean still had it in him to get all of Sam down his throat. Sam’s cock was heavy in his mouth and the taste of precum was bitter on his tongue but Dean couldn’t imagine a better combination right now. Dean was so focused on Sam, making Sam feel good, the sound of his name on Sam’s lips, Sam’s moans, the feeling of Sam’s cock hitting the back of his throat, that for the time being, all of his numbness and sadness were forgotten about which was part of the reason he had so much casual sex but this, with Sam, it was better than any of that could ever be. 

The wet heat of Dean’s mouth was the most amazing thing Sam had ever felt; his own hand could do nothing in comparison to this. Sam loved Dean’s lips normally but now, seeing them stretched around his cock as it disappeared deep into Dean’s mouth, his throat every few seconds with Dean’s every movement, god, he’d never be able to look at those lips innocently again. As soft moans continued to slip past his lips, he began to feel heat coil in his stomach, his eyes falling shut and his grip tightening in Dean’s hair which Dean didn’t mind one bit. Embarrassingly soon after they started, without remembering to warn Dean because he'd never experienced this before, he came hard, deep in Dean’s throat. “Dean!” slipped off his tongue desperately and his legs almost gave out from the sheer force of the orgasm. All of his thoughts were gone for the time being, including the sound of the voices, and it felt phenomenal.

Dean’s grip tightened on Sam’s thigh a little bit so he could give Sam the slightest bit of support as he swallowed down every last drop of Sam’s cum. It was less messy than spitting, after all. The hint of support didn’t matter though because as soon as Dean had pulled off, having sucked Sam dry, Sam sunk down to his knees as well, placing both of his hands on Dean’s face and surging forward to press his mouth to Dean’s, this kiss almost more desperate than the ones they had shared before Dean had blown him.

Dean pulled back after a long while, settling himself on the cold porcelain floor and pulling Sam closer as Sam let his body relax in Dean’s arms, a wave of drowsiness hitting him. “Thank you,” Sam said finally in a hushed whisper, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck.

_“You’re being selfish, Sam. He needs something in return.”_

“Do you want me to..?” Sam asked hesitantly but Dean only shook his head, gathering Sam up close to his body and adjusting them so the hot water was running over both of them, their bodies pressed together fully. Sam let his eyes fall shut as he slowly came down from his high, his fingers beginning to trace over the scars on Dean’s abdomen because Sam needed something to do with his hands and the texture of the raised scar tissue as he traced his fingers along the lines was oddly calming.

They stayed there in a comfortable silence for the better half of an hour, just letting themselves savor the time completely alone from the rest of the world. By the time Dean finally stood up and helped Sam up, their fingers were pruning from the water. Sam was drained, completely exhausted by the day’s events. “Dean?” He asked as they stepped out of the shower, grabbing the two towels that were on the rack and handing one to Dean, starting to dry off.

“Hm?” Dean asked hazily, likely more tired than Sam was.

“Earlier you said we weren’t okay and then you said we were. Are we actually?” Sam asked as he dried off his hair a little bit. It wasn’t particularly wet, only a little bit damp from the residual spray. 

“We’re okay,” Dean confirmed as he pulled his boxers and long-sleeved shirt back on, stepping closer to Sam. “We’re good. I think we weren’t totally sure of where we were going but friends don’t give friends blow-jobs so I think we’re past the grey area,” he said as he pulled his pants on as well, amused by the fact that Sam’s blush not only spread on his cheeks but down his neck too.

“I’m glad we’re okay. I’m sorry I’ve been weird,” Sam said as he started to get dressed as well but then stopped, walking out into the room to grab his pajamas and getting dressed in those instead. “Do you think they’d get mad if we took a nap in the same bed?”  
  
“You want to take a nap?” Dean asked as he headed into the room, sitting down on the edge of Sam’s bed as Sam nodded and sat down as well. “It’s a twin but we can both probably fit.”

“We can both fit,” Sam confirmed as he shifted to carefully lay down under the covers, holding them up for Dean to join him underneath them. Dean did just that, tangling their legs together and wrapping his arms around Sam as Sam wrapped his around Dean, both of them taking solace in one another’s presence as they fell silent and eventually, fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because someone will get mad, I'm sure:  
> Sam is demisexual, has always been. He believed he was asexual for a short period of time and that is okay. It is okay for the label one uses to change. He didn't know. He had never gotten emotionally close enough to someone to want anything sexual. That in no way invalidated asexuality. Demisexual is on the Ace spectrum anyways. Asexuality is real; Sam just isn't asexual. Simple as that.
> 
> Same goes for Dean and him being demiromantic. He did not develop his crush on Sam until they had started becoming emotionally close and he has never experienced romantic attraction before. Now, that may be situational or it may be because that is genuinely his sexuality. Probably a combination of both, really, at least in my mind it is.


	10. Until the Day I Die

From there forward, for the next month and a half, Dean seemed to be getting better. Well, kind of. He wasn’t getting better in any way whatsoever but the fact that he was finally accepting help after more than eight months of being there, that was seen as a breakthrough in the eyes of Dean’s healthcare team. With Sam forcing him to actually accept treatment in exchange for Sam also staying, Dean was beginning to reluctantly talk to his therapist, psychologist, and psychiatrist, and he had begun to willingly take the antidepressants that they had attempted to force into him since the beginning. He wasn’t getting better though. He still wanted to die, still had plans to kill himself as soon as he was out of this place, not that he ever voiced those thoughts. He had never even considered what that would do to Sam, the repercussions it would have now that he wasn’t completely alone in the world anymore.

Sam wasn’t doing better either. Being ‘locked up’ in the facility while school was in session was driving him crazy. He was getting antsy about getting out after the four or so months he had been there but Dean was keeping up his end of the deal and so Sam was going to stay even though in his opinion, keeping him here was likely making him worse than it was making him better. He wouldn’t say that out loud, however, because then he worried they’d think he was even more fucked up than they’d initially thought and may not ever let him leave.

* * *

Dean was sitting on the couch in his therapist’s office, messing with his sleeve as she spoke to him about this, that, and the other thing, half dissociating because he was having an off day and his brain’s natural response to being unhappy or uncomfortable was to have him completely zone out. However, he was suddenly brought back to reality at what the woman had just said. “What did you just say?” He asked as he looked up from his arm, blinking at her a few times because he wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly or that her words weren’t a figment of his imagination.

“I figured that would catch your attention. I said that at the rate you’re improving, you may be eligible to be discharged by the end next month.”

“I.. I what?” Dean asked, needing her to repeat it for the third time and when she did, he stared at her blankly, pretty sure he was hearing her wrong. Were they going to let him leave? “I might be eligible to be discharged,” he repeated slowly. He knew he was still not technically ready but to him, her saying he could be discharged was almost a go-ahead for ending his own life. Of course, it wasn’t at all but the staff didn’t know that Dean was still a suicidal wreck. “That’s awesome!” He exclaimed, leaning back into the couch and genuinely smiling which he realized was somewhat morbid, so he wiped the smile off his face quickly. “Wow. Only nine months in,” he added sarcastically.

“You’ve needed the care, Dean. Had you started accepting it earlier like you are now, maybe you would have been better months ago and ready to leave then. But now that you are beginning to do better, it’s definitely in the cards.”

Dean frowned a little bit as he watched her, not really believe what she was saying. “But.. I’m not cured?” He asked more than said as he licked his lips, keeping them parted. It was risky saying that but he wanted the reasoning behind this. Did they want him dead?

“The goal here isn’t to cure you. It’s to get you out of a crisis. It’s to get you to a point where you can actually live with everyone else in society. Leaving here doesn’t mean your treatment stops. It just means you get to go home. Generally, we do a transition into outpatient services after someone’s been inpatient and then a transition into therapy a few times a week, down to therapy once or twice a week. It’s a process. The goal of this institution is not to cure you. It’s to help in the short term to help in crisis situations and you’ve been here for a long time already, Dean.”

“I.. I could do that,” Dean replied quietly with a small frown, nodding. It was a blatant lie; he knew that the second he got out of here, he’d be heading to his local firearms shop, buying a gun, and offing himself that way because it was more absolute than attempting to bleed out or be hanged. Sam still wasn’t crossing his mind when he thought of those plans. “I can do that. Does that mean there’s a chance I get out of here sooner than the end of November?”

“No. The end of next month, November, is the soonest we’re predicting,” she said calmly, offering Dean a little smile. HIs enthusiasm was a good thing in her mind but she was oblivious to the fact that it was enthusiasm about not being supervised so he could complete his plan, not enthusiasm about getting to go home to his family, which he hadn’t told her anything about. “And, of course, that’s only if you continue to progress at the same rate that you have been.”

“I’m going to work harder at it. Sam helps,” Dean said seriously, again taking on an egocentric view temporarily instead of his normal selfless, self-sacrificing one, still not considering Sam’s feelings yet. “I’m going to work at it. I promise.” That wasn’t an empty promise. He would work as hard as he could to convince them that he was ready to get out, even if it was fake that he was getting better. “Thank you.”

“Like I said, Dean, that’s the goal at this facility. We’re not residency program. We’re for crisis support,” she said with a genuine smile. “We’re almost done with your session today but if you’re not going to talk to me anymore, I can let you go a couple minutes early.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Dean said as he got up, feeling a kind of morbid joy once again. “See you on Thursday,” he said before he walked out of the room, shutting it behind himself and going join Sam.

Dean found Sam in the little library area of the facility, where he usually went when Dean was in therapy sessions, and sat down across from Sam at the little table. He plucked the book out of Sam’s hands, smiling small at the fact that Sam scrunched up his nose in displeasure. Dean reached up to smooth out the wrinkle between Sam’s brows with his thumb, causing Sam to smile despite trying to fight it. “Hey, cutie,” Dean said lightly, clearly in a decent mood.

“How was your session, Dean?” Sam asked gently, glancing at Lucifer, who was messing around behind Dean, before he looked back to Dean. “Good, I hope?”

“Super good,” Dean said honestly, taking Sam’s hand loosely on top of the table. “They think I can get out before Thanksgiving. About a month from now. They think I can get out. Sam, I’ve been in here for just short of eight months and now, they think I’ll be able to leave.”

 _“When he leaves, he’s going to forget all about you, Sam. He’s going to leave you like everyone else. You were just a fucked-up fling. He’s been using you. I’ll never use you. I’ll never leave you,”_ Lucifer said as he moved to sit down beside Dean, drawing all of Sam’s attention to him instead of his boyfriend.

“Congrats,” Sam said finally, his voice more bitter than he intended for it to be. He was happy for Dean, truly, but Lucifer was right. Dean was going to leave him too.

“Thanks, Mr. Grumpy. What’s wrong?” Dean asked with a small frown. “You don’t seem happy.”

“I am. I’m happy for you,” Sam replied as he stood up. “I’ll be in my room,” he muttered out with his jaw somewhat locked, quickly leaving the reading nook area.

Dean frowned, watching Sam leave. He sat there, stunned, for a few minutes before he got up, cleaning up the books Sam had left out. He put them all in the appropriate places, pushing his fingers through his hair and letting out a slow sigh before he walked towards Sam’s room. He knocked on the doorframe when he arrived at it, not walking in until Sam mumbled a, “come in,” because even with the lack of doors, Dean still valued privacy.

Dean moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, taking hold of the front of the hoodie Sam was wearing and holding it tightly in both hands. “Look me in the eyes, Sammy,” he murmured out softly. “I’ll still be your boyfriend when I get out. And when you get discharged, or you leave AMA, whichever, I will be right there waiting for you with open arms.”

 _“He’s going to leave you just like everyone else. I’m the only one who will never leave you,”_ Lucifer said as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, causing a burning pain that was very real to Sam as always.

“Yeah? You’ll be waiting for me? Why? There are better people out there,” Sam said bitterly though one of his hands did move to Dean’s wrist because feeling the scars under the undershirt was something to focus on other than the burning on his shoulder.

“Because you’re my boyfriend, kiddo. Not just in here. You’re my boyfriend, period. Wherever we are,” Dean said calmly as he let go of Sam’s hoodie and smoothed it out. He moved his hands to either of Sam’s cheeks, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s. “And I’m yours. I’m not ditching you.” At this moment in time, Dean wasn’t thinking about dying or his plans and so he wasn’t quite lying, at least not on purpose.

Sam watched him quietly, searching his eyes for a long while after Dean stopped speaking. “Okay,” he whispered finally, reaching up to cover Dean’s hand with his own on his cheek. “I.. I hope you’re not lying to me,” he added, letting his eyes fall shut as he carefully nuzzled his nose against Dean’s, making Dean smile the tiniest bit.

“I’m not,” Dean replied in a gentle whisper back, carefully fitting his lips to Sam’s in a slow, tender kiss which Sam reciprocated. When Dean pulled back, he tipped Sam’s head down, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’m wholeheartedly yours.”

_“He’s going to find someone better than you when he’s out. He’s going to leave you. Never speak to you again. You only have us, Sam. You only have me.”_

“Promise?” Sam asked quietly, moving their hands into his lap. “Because I want you in my life, Dean,” he admitted quietly. That wasn’t the whole truth though. Dean kept him grounded; Sam was pretty sure that at this point, he needed Dean even more than he even wanted him, which was already a lot. “I want you to be around for everything that happens from here on out.”

“When you start school again, you’ll have a smokin’ hot older boyfriend,” Dean added, tone teasing which made Sam laugh. That was why Dean messed around; he’d do anything to put a smile on Sam’s face. He didn’t think he was particularly attractive but he could make jokes about it.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam said with a little smile resting on his lips as he shifted their hands so he was holding one of Dean’s hands in both of his own. “But I’m being serious. Please don’t leave me when you get out of here. I don’t want to just be a fling,” he added, his smile fading.    
  
“You’re not a fling and I’m not going to leave you. I’ll be right there when you get out,” Dean said seriously, giving Sam’s hand a tight squeeze and meeting his eyes. “I need you, Sammy. I need you in my life. I’m not going to leave you.” For this moment in time, that was the truth. He would love Sam until the day he died and he knew that, especially because that date was so close. He also knew that that was what this was: love. Even less than two months into their romantic relationship, Dean knew he loved this boy. It had been inevitable from the start, he realized.

“Dean, you’re zoning out,” Sam said as he shook Dean’s shoulder, causing Dean to wonder when Sam had let go of his hand. “Dean.”

“Hm?” Dean asked, a little bit hazy for a moment as he blinked to clear up his vision.

“You didn’t hear me. I told you.. I told you that I needed you, too, and I asked if you would lay with me for a little while,” Sam said as he reached up to brush Dean’s hair off his forehead. “But maybe instead of laying here, we ask them if we can start a movie in the movie room?”

Dean nodded slightly, a little smile forming on his lips. He hadn’t participated in any of the movie nights since he had been admitted, so watching a movie for the first time in months seemed like a nice idea. “Yeah. I’ll go ask,” he said as he got up from the bed, ruffling Sam’s hair playfully before he left the room.

_“He’s going to leave you. He might break up with you. He might die. You’ll never know until it happens.”_

The thought of Dean committing suicide was back in Sam’s mind for the first time in a long time. It terrified him. He zipped up his hoodie most of the way, wishing the drawstrings were there to fidget with but the facility had removed them because strings were a safety hazard. “He won’t leave me. He promised,” Sam said quietly before he left the room to go join Dean, Lucifer tagging along as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because writing and classes for nursing school aren't enough.. I also draw. So here's one of the pieces I made to go along with this story.
> 
>   
>  <http://wxncesters.tumblr.com/post/172556608482/wxncesters-for-the-shattered-minds-and-broken>   
> 


	11. Say Your Goodbyes

Dean’s discharge date approached much faster than either of them had expected. It wasn’t until Dean was brought into his therapist’s office one evening near the end of October and told that he was to be discharged the next day after breakfast that he realized just how fast that month had flown by. He was still not doing well by any means, nor was Sam, but Dean could hide it a lot better than Sam could. Sam still believed that the Lucifer and the voices were real most of the time and had conversations with them out loud on occasion, after all, so discharge wasn’t even in the plans for him at this point.  
  
When Dean walked out of the room, Sam was waiting for him outside, his bottom lip worried between his teeth. “How did it go?” He asked quietly, not sure what Dean could have possibly been called in for, especially since the meeting had only lasted less than five minutes. Dean had also been pulled in rather suddenly so Sam could only assume the worst.

“I get out tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,” Dean said brightly, wrapping his arm loosely around Sam’s shoulders as he walked with Sam into the cafeteria. He had to stretch a little bit because Sam seemed to be going through a growth spurt and had definitely grown a solid two or more inches since they had started ‘dating’ nearly three months ago. Dean definitely didn’t hate being significantly shorter though, even if he grumbled about it sometimes.  “Sam, I’m actually getting out.”  
_  
_ _“He’s finally going to leave you. Tomorrow is your last day together.”_

“I’m happy for you,” Sam said quietly though it wasn’t quite true. He wanted Dean to stay with him there if he was going to stay. He leaned into Dean’s side as they began to walk. “Where are you going to go? You never talk about John, your dad, I mean, or anyone else in your family. Are you going to go home to them? I know your mom's gone but your other family's got to be there for you.”

“John Winchester may be my blood but he’s not my family anymore,” Dean said quietly, frowning as they entered the line for food. “I’m not sure. I’m not going back there though. Maybe to get a few photographs, my clothes, guitar, that stuff, but I’m not going back there to stay with him again. He doesn’t want me around. I’m too much of a mess for him. He’s the reason I’m in here.”

“You play guitar?” Sam asked with a slight smile at the new information before reverting back to his original displeased look. “That’s beside the point, sorry. You’re doing better now, Dean. You should see him,” he said seriously with a small frown, looking down at his boyfriend as he grabbed his own tray. Even Sam didn’t know that that wasn’t true, that Dean wasn’t doing better. “He’s your dad. Of course, he wants to see you. My dad, he never wanted to see me.. My mom won’t even tell me his name. Well, no, actually she fakes like she doesn't know who he is, but it's because she doesn’t want me trying to track him down. Not that I would. He didn’t want me anyway.”

“Well, he’s missing out,” Dean replied as he shrugged casually. He genuinely believed that. He believed that all those who got to have Sam in their lives were the luckiest people imaginable; Dean felt like he was extremely lucky, at least. “Unlucky bastard doesn’t even know how amazing his kid turned out and unlike him, I would spend every waking _and_ sleeping moment next to you if I got that chance.” He moved to sit down at their usual table, sampling all of Sam’s food before starting on his own, as was routine.  
  
“Dean?” Sam asked after a few seconds of silence despite them already being in the middle of a conversation. The, “hm,” he got in response from Dean prompted him to continue. “Would you really? Spend all your time with me?” He asked quietly, starting to pick at his food slowly. “Because you get out tomorrow and.. and I don’t want tomorrow to be the last time I ever see you.”

“Kiddo, come on. I already told you this. I’m your boyfriend, not just in this place but outside of it too. I’m yours, through and through. No matter what,” Dean said calmly, taking Sam’s hand on top of the table and lacing their fingers together. It didn’t mean, however, that tomorrow wasn’t the last day they would ever see one another. Dean’s thoughts, his plans, were still set in his mind.

 _“Doesn’t mean he’s not going to leave you,”_ Lucifer said in a sing-song voice, directing Sam’s attention to the seemingly empty chair beside Dean where Lucifer was sitting, taunting Sam. _“He’s suicidal, remember? He’s going to be dead tomorrow, the second he gets out. We're the only ones here for you.”_ Sam didn’t know how right Lucifer was.

“I think I’m going to go to bed early,” Sam said slowly, his voice sounding somewhat distant because he was so focused on Lucifer and nothing else around him. “Goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you in the morning,” he added, speech a bit jumbled as he walked away from the table and towards his room. It happened sometimes, where his words didn’t come out quite right even though in his head they were fine.

Dean figured Sam was having an off night, considering how early he was planning to go to bed. He decided Sam just needed a little bit of alone time and so he let Sam leave, eating a few more bites of his food before throwing it away. He ate even less than Sam, most days. It was kind of subconscious; the idea of starving to death was one he never even considered but it did make its way into his habits while he was in this place, nonetheless. It also plausibly stemmed from the lack of food he’d had growing up.

Eventually, a few hours later after Dean had gotten himself ready for bed, he walked into Sam’s room, pleased to see Sam asleep and sprawled out with gangly limbs over the edges of the bed. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing Sam’s hair from his eyes and leaning down to press a kiss to his temple before covering him up with the blankets. “G’night, Sammy,” he said quietly, the words _‘I love you,’_ flickering through his mind though he still couldn’t bring himself to say them.

He returned to his own room, slipping into the bed and adjusting himself there so that he could comfortably stare at the ceiling while he thought; his insomnia meant he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while. In the hours before he fell asleep, he thought about a lot of things, many quite macabre, but his last thought before he finally did drift off, around four in the morning, was about Sam as it so often was.

Dean was barely asleep for twenty minutes when he was being woken up again by a scream that he had become somewhat familiar with at this point, except his name was muddled somewhere in the scream for once. As always, he was across the hall and there with Sam faster than any of the staff could be, tugging him down from the bed and into his lap on the floor as he so often did. “I’ve got you,” he whispered out in Sam’s ear.

Sam only managed to choke out Dean’s name over and over again through sobs as he clutched Dean’s shirt, clinging to him like he was going to disappear, which in a way was unusual. Normally, it was just sobs, not Dean’s name as well. But tonight, Dean could tell something was different.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” Dean said calmly as he slipped one hand up under the back of Sam’s flannel; Sam had fallen asleep in his clothes earlier causing him to still be dressed. “I’ve got you, Sammy. I’m here, I’m right here,” he whispered as the nurse and doctor that were always around for these episodes walked in. Dean shot them a glare as always before his focus was one hundred percent back on Sam.

“Dean,” Sam mumbled out again as he started to catch his breath, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “Dean.. Dean, I love you, fuck.. I need you, Dean.. Please, Dean, please don’t die. You.. I watched you burning. Burning to death. I heard your screams,” he breathed out, shoving his face against Dean’s shoulder. Normally, it was his mother, but tonight, for the first time ever, it had been Dean and seeing that, watching Dean die right before his very eyes, was shattering him into pieces, making him realize he’d rather die than live without Dean there with him.

_“He doesn’t love you back. You’re going to scare him off.”_

Dean wasn’t sure what to be more surprised about, Sam cursing or the words ‘I love you’ because no one loved Dean, in Dean’s mind. Tolerated him, maybe, but that was being generous. Still, he couldn’t say the words back, even though he did love Sam, more than anything. More than life itself but that was a given. “I’m not going to die,” he whispered out quietly and for some reason, Sam right now was making something set in for him. He wasn’t alone anymore. His death was no longer something no one would notice. Sam would notice. If this was any indication, Sam would break exactly like Dean had when his mother, Kate, had died. He wanted to die, more than anything, but if he needed to live for Sam, he would. His therapist had told him on many occasions that it was okay to live for something else, something other than himself, and Sam was that something. Dean would live for Sam.

“You are,” Sam breathed out, his sobbing picking back up as he clutched Dean’s shirt until his knuckles turned white. “You are. You are. He says he’s going to kill yourself. He says you are and I know you want to and I need you, Dean, you can’t do that. Please. _Please._ I’m begging you, don’t.. don’t do that to me,” he choked out, his tears beginning to soak through Dean’s shirt. “I need you. I don’t want to live without you.. You make things easier. You make all of it bearable.”

“I’m not going to die,” Dean said seriously with more confidence in his voice this time, moving both of his hands to Sam’s cheeks and holding them firmly to tug Sam’s face up so they could make eye contact. “I.. Sammy, I need you to calm down and.. and then I’ll tell you some things. Calm down. I’ve got you.”

The nurse had hesitated for a long while before leading Sam’s roommate from the room, bringing the doctor with her because Sam was slowly calming down and with Dean’s words, she figured they needed a little bit of privacy.

Sam nodded, still kind of gasping through sobs. Slowly but surely, though, he was beginning to calm himself down because Dean was there, holding him, not burning on the ceiling like he had seen. In time, he settled down completely, a few tears still slipping down his cheeks and his nose still running but his breathing back to normal and his gaze was on his boyfriend. “Okay,” he whispered out finally, reaching up to place his hands on Dean’s cheeks, trailing his thumbs over Dean’s freckles because it was something to focus on. “Tell me, please.”

“You’re right,” Dean said seriously, placing one hand on Sam’s chest and moving it to rest over his heart. Sam’s heart was pounding rapidly under his fingertips but he let it calm him anyways. Sam’s words, ‘I love you,’ were running through his mind as well. He could do this. He reached up to wipe Sam's nose with his sleeve, still hesitating. 

“I’m right?” Sam whispered out shakily. “I’m right that you’re going to die?”

“That I was going to kill myself when I got out,” Dean whispered out hesitantly. If the nurse were there, he wouldn’t have said it ever but this was just them, just Sam and Dean. SamandDean more like. They really were more like one person than two at this point.

Another sob rose in Sam’s throat and he felt like he was going to throw up. So Lucifer had been right as he so often was. “Dean,” he breathed out, tears beginning to run down his cheeks more rapidly.

“Shh, Sammy, no. Bad place to start. Sorry. No. No, I’m not going anywhere,” Dean whispered out, his sincerity clear in his voice. “I was. I was going to, today, tomorrow, whatever day it is, I was going to. But.. but I can’t.. not now. I didn’t.. I didn’t consider you. I didn’t consider that.. that this.. me, me dying, that it could have an effect on you but it can and I get that now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise me. Swear to me, Dean.. I’m begging you. Swear to me on  _my_ life, Dean, please,” Sam breathed out, clutching Dean’s face a little bit tighter as he searched back and forth between Dean’s eyes in the dim light from the hall.

“I promise, Sammy. I swear. I swear on your life I’m not going to kill myself,” Dean whispered out as he reached up to wipe the tears off Sam’s cheeks even though they were still falling. It was true. Sam was a reason to live. Dean hadn’t realized that until now. And Dean was swearing on Sam’s life now; while he knew swearing on something wasn’t binding in any way, it felt important. He would never risk Sam’s life like that. “I promise I’m never leaving you.”

“I love you,” Sam said quietly, head bowing as his eyes fell shut. “You need to know that. I love you. I know it’s only been three months, less than that maybe even, but I love you and I’m not just saying it because I’m some stupid teenager who doesn’t know what it means to be in love because I do know.. I know that’s what I’m feeling. And I’m in love with you. I’ve been falling in love with you for the past six months, Dean Winchester. And I need you.. Don’t be a selfish bastard and leave me all alone in the world.”

_“He doesn’t love you back. He never will.”_

“I don’t care,” Sam said out loud, taking a deep breath. Dean hadn't had time to respond to anything Sam had said before Sam had started talking again to Lucifer. “I don’t care if he doesn’t love me back.  I need him to know that someone cares about him; that Icare about him. That I need him. I don’t care if he doesn’t love me back.”

“I do,” Dean said quietly, not being able to bring himself to say the words themselves still. He didn’t know if he ever would be able to. Everyone he loved left him, the situation with Sam was likely no different and he didn’t want to lose Sam too. Sam wasn’t talking to him specifically but that didn’t matter. “They’ve never stopped us while we nap, so how about we try to go back to sleep in your bed, together. I think rest would be a good idea for both of us.”

Sam sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, leaning in to press his mouth to Dean’s and kissing him firmly, lovingly, despite the saltiness that coated his lips from his tears. When they pulled back, Sam stood up and pulled Dean up as well, clambering into bed. When he was settled, he held up the covers, waiting for Dean to join him under the thin blanket. He was still crying but he figured that Dean was right; sleep was likely the best idea.

Dean offered Sam a sad smile, crawling into bed with him and deciding he was going to lay with his front facing the door to make sure he’d be aware of someone walking in. That prompted Sam to snake his arms around Dean’s waist, spooning him from behind and pressing his face into Dean’s back. “I love you,” Sam repeated before they both fell silent. He just needed Dean to know more than anything else. It didn’t matter if Dean didn’t say it back, Sam needed Dean to know that he was loved.

While Sam fell back asleep after a short while, Dean took an hour or so before he was finally able to fall back asleep, his thoughts focused on the idea of living for Sam. He could do that, force his way through each day for Sam. Whatever made Sam happy, he would do. Sam had said he needed Dean so Dean would stick around. Simple as that.

* * *

Dean woke up with the sunrise a couple hours later, a tired smile spreading on his lips because Sam’s body was still pressed up against his own. Sam’s leg had also slotted between Dean’s during the night and Dean decided he didn’t hate waking up quite as much if it was going to be to Sam pressed up close to him. This was the first time they had spent the night together, after all. He didn’t move away, only placing one hand over Sam’s where they rested on his abdomen as Sam slept. “Your arm has got to be asleep,” he mumbled out to himself so as to not wake Sam, even if the comment was directed at Sam.

After another hour or so, Sam woke as well, groaning against Dean’s back before carefully untangling himself while he was only semi-conscious. He had slept well after Dean had joined him. Better than he had in a long time because having someone there, being able to hold someone so it felt like they couldn’t slip away, it was far superior to sleeping alone.  
  
“Dean?” Sam mumbled out after a while, voice thick with sleep. He shifted, almost falling out of the bed as he moved away from Dean because a twin bed definitely wasn’t ideal for a 6’2 teenager and a 5’11 grown man. He pulled himself back onto the bed as Dean rolled onto his other side so he could face Sam. Sam smiled sleepily at him when they locked eyes.

“Morning, Sammy,” Dean said quietly, reaching up to brush Sam’s hair from his eyes with a genuine, soft smile resting on his lips. He’d thought about it a lot. This was going to be hard, living for someone else, but if he was lucky enough to see that beautiful smile on Sam’s lips and the sunflowers that were Sam’s eyes every day, it would be worth it.  
  
“Morning, Dean,” Sam replied as he yawned, covering up his mouth with his hand, his eyes falling shut because of it. He didn’t bother to open them again after the yawn, adjusting the pillow under his head.

“Are you going back to sleep?” Dean asked quietly, scooting forward to lay a gentle kiss on Sam’s lips which made Sam smile slightly. Dean melted at it because God, he was so in love with this boy. Being willing to live for him, that proved it to himself. Dean had never been willing to live for anything before.

Sam didn’t bother responding, slowly opening his eyes again to look at Dean with a loving little smile on his lips. His mornings tended to be better for his symptoms than his nights, a sort of sundowning effect. Right now, he was peaceful and happy and if this was the last time he would see Dean, which he still felt like it was, he was glad to be calm while it lasted.

“No?” Dean asked rhetorically, leaning in to press another quick kiss to Sam’s lips. “Well, do you want to take a shower then?” He let his forehead rest against Sam’s, his attention focused on searching the golds, browns, greens, even the little bit of blue in Sam’s beautiful eyes.

Sam nodded slowly, letting his eyes fall shut again (much to Dean’s displeasure) as he reached up to run his fingers along Dean’s jaw. “You get out today,” he whispered out quietly, finally speaking up. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked quietly, reaching up to draw Sam’s hand to his mouth. He slowly pressed a kiss to the pad of each of Sam’s fingers, his own eyes falling shut. He spoke finally after he had kissed Sam’s thumb. “Well, you won’t miss me for long. I’ll be at visiting hours tomorrow. I can bring you something for dinner instead of the cafeteria food if you’d like. You know, like some of the visitors do.”

“You want to visit me?” Sam asked quietly, voice filled with a bit of awe as he slowly started to sit up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, back towards Dean. “Really?”

Dean moved to sit up as well, carefully settling himself behind Sam and starting to rub his shoulders soothingly, something he hadn’t done before. “Of course I do,” he murmured out calmly, beginning to work out some of the knots in Sam’s back. There were a lot and Dean figured that at some point, he would have to take a few hours and spend that time doing nothing but working them all out for Sam.

Sam relaxed under the touch and the words alike, years worth of stress presenting itself in the knots in his back, neck, and shoulders. He stayed quiet, letting Dean work at his back for a few minutes before he pulled away and stood up.

Dean stood as well, walking with Sam into the little bathroom. “I’m going to bring you some food for dinner tomorrow. Sound good?” He asked softly, slowly stripping off his clothes after he had turned on the shower.

_“He won’t be here tomorrow, Sam.”_

“Sounds good,” Sam said quietly as he rubbed his eyes, stripping his own clothing off before they both stepped into the shower. Sam pressed up against Dean, letting his eyes fall shut again as he wrapped his arms around Dean, his hands flat on Dean’s back. With everything in him, he hoped that Dean was being honest when he said that he would be there tomorrow, that he would be there permanently.

Dean loosely wrapped his arms around Sam as well, their bodies fitting perfectly together as they stood there under the stream of warm water. He stayed quiet for a long time before carefully stepping back and grabbing the little bottle of shampoo. He poured a bit into his hands, reaching up to start massaging it into Sam’s scalp.

Sam smiled to himself, bowing his head so Dean could reach better. Like Dean, he also stayed silent, letting Dean wash and then condition his hair, focusing on the gentle touch. When Dean had finished rinsing his hair for the second time, Sam grabbed the body wash, pouring some into his own hands, lathering it up, and beginning to run them over Dean’s body. The texture of the scars beneath his fingertips was still oddly calming to him, even if he knew what they meant.

Dean let Sam wash him and after a little while, they got through their shower. Dean stepped out first, drying off before Sam stepped out. He wrapped a towel around Sam’s shoulders before he put his own clothes from before back on.  
  
Sam smiled at him, leaning down to peck Dean’s lips. “Will I get to see you in real clothes tomorrow for dinner?” He asked softly. “I hate these.. scrubs, I guess they are, that they make you wear.”

“They don’t make me wear them. I didn’t bring any other clothes. Only the outfit I was admitted in and I couldn’t have worn that every day for eight months,” Dean pointed out as he patted Sam on the butt before leaving the bathroom. He grabbed Sam some clean clothes before handing them into the bathroom and heading down to breakfast.

Breakfast went as it normally did but at the end, Dean was pulled aside by a staff member. He signed paper after paper after paper under her instruction, not reading a single one of them. He was given back the clothes that he had come in. His clothing consisted of a simple black t-shirt, a black and red flannel, jeans, and his combat boots. The clothes were a little too big now as he had lost even more weight since being admitted. He also got his cell phone back though it was dead, his watch, his keys, and his mother’s ring. Unfortunately, in his opinion, he was not given back the knife that he had also had on him when he had been admitted. He glanced over himself in the mirror of the staff bathroom, feeling a little odd because it had been so long since he’d been in street clothes but then it was time to go and his outfit didn’t matter anymore.

"Time to say your goodbyes and get going, Dean," the nurse said as she entered the room, offering Dean a kind smile.

Dean nodded and walked out of the bathroom with the nurse, towards the set of double doors that led to the outside world. He was glad to see Sam was standing, even if he looked pensive. “Hey, kiddo,” Dean said calmly as he walked over.

Sam looked up from the ground where he had been staring, looking over Dean’s clothes first and then smiling. “You look good,” he said quietly. To him, this felt like it would be the last time he’d ever see Dean so it was hurting him more than he would care to admit. “I love you. Remember that, okay? And please keep your promises from last night.”  
_  
_ _“He doesn’t love you back. Stop saying that. You’ll freak him out and drive him away. You’re never going to see him again. We’re all you have, Sam.”_

“Me too,” Dean said calmly, the words still unable to come out of him. He leaned in, pressing a short kiss to Sam’s lips. “And I will; I don’t break my promises.” He smiled softly at Sam, placing one hand on Sam’s cheek and drawing him down into a long kiss before he let the nurse walk him out of the facility and away from the one person in the world that he cared about more than anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean's shorter than he is in canon. It's fanfiction and I can take creative liberties. I like Dean being significantly shorter than Sam and three inches just isn't cutting it. Sam's still growing, Dean's not.


	12. I Love Him

As Dean walked out of the facility’s front doors, he looked back even though Sam wasn’t in view. He knew it was pathetic and cliché but he already missed Sam. He stayed standing outside for a long time before he finally began the walk towards his old house. When he arrived on his front porch, he unlocked the door slowly, silently, pushing it open and wincing when it creaked. It felt horrible being back here in this house and the fact that John was passed out on the couch, either black-out drunk or asleep, didn’t help.

Dean made his way up the stairs to his room, entering it and looking around. All of his possessions seemed to be gone and that sent Dean into a minor panic. What had John done with all of this things? He needed a lot of those, his guitar which he had taught himself to play as something to distract himself from his urges; his photographs of his mother which he looked at when he needed to remember her; his clothes which, duh, he needed to wear. All of it but the furniture was missing.

Panic began to build as he headed back downstairs and out into the garage to make sure that his car was still there. It was the one thing he valued most out of all of his material possessions, a ‘67 Chevrolet Impala that he had rebuilt when he was fifteen. John didn’t have keys to it so it had to be there, right?  It had been given to him by the one person who had given a damn about Dean though his childhood. Bobby Singer. Thinking about that in this moment made Dean plug in his phone to charge before he walked into the garage, relief flooding through him because his car was still there. He started to search around, finding all of his things in various boxes, all packed up and ready for him to leave.

Dean piled everything into the car, grabbing his phone from inside even though it only had eleven percent battery. He had his car; he had his stuff. Now he needed somewhere to go.

He stopped about ten miles away from his house, pulling over to the side of the road and taking a deep breath before he hit dial on Bobby’s number in his phone. Bobby was the only place Dean could think of to go. He couldn’t really afford to go anywhere else, not even a motel.

When Bobby answered the phone with a surprised “Dean?”, Dean couldn’t help the slight smile that formed on his lips. “Hey, Bobby. Yeah.. It’s me.”

“Kid, God. It’s been too long, where the hell have you been?”

“It’s.. It’s a long story, Bobby. Do you mind if.. if I come over? I need somewhere to go and I don’t know who else to turn to,” Dean said as he got out of the car to get his leather jacket from the trunk, shrugging it on. “I have nowhere else to go. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t kind of desperate.”

“Course, Dean, you’re always welcome here,” Bobby said quickly, his frown audible in his voice. It was strange, hearing from Dean after months and months of thinking the kid was dead but it was also a major relief. “I’ll see you soon, kid,” he added before he hung up.

Dean got back into the car, setting his phone aside and closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. He knew he’d have to tell Bobby the story now that he’d up and disappeared for months without a word. The whole story, starting when Dean was four. Because while Bobby knew that his mother had died, he didn’t know how neglectful and emotionally abusive John had been after that.

Dean started the car, driving off towards Bobby’s home and when he arrived, he parked out front. He got up, walking up to the front door and wiping the sweat off his palms onto his jeans before he knocked firmly on the door.

When Bobby answered it, he pulled Dean down into a hug without a single word and Dean gladly reciprocated it, closing his eyes. “Hey, Bobby,” he murmured out quietly, pulling away after a short while and rubbing his hands over his face. “Do you mind.. Can I come in?”

“Course,” Bobby replied as he stepped aside, shutting the door behind Dean once Dean had entered. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Dean. Where the hell have you been for nine, ten months?” He asked, walking into the kitchen and grabbing two beers, one for Dean and one for himself.

Dean took it silently as he moved to sit down on Bobby’s couch, not knowing how to explain it all quite yet. He finally started after a solid two or so minutes. “Those first two months, I just.. didn’t call, text, or anything. That.. That was on me. I thought it would be easier. But I’ve been in the hospital since then.”

Slowly, Dean began to explain everything, expression stoic because he needed to stay calm while he explained it. It helped that he was still numb to most of it. He started with Kate’s death and began to tell Bobby about how after that, John stopped taking care of him and then later started spewing verbal and psychological abuse his way. He told him about his first attempt, his second, then dropping out of school. Eventually, he told Bobby about his third attempt on his life and how John had decided that that was enough and that Dean had to be placed into a mental institution because John didn’t want to deal with him anymore. He told Bobby about how he couldn’t leave because he was a danger to himself. He didn’t mention the scars littering his body, however, because Bobby had never and would never see them. Eventually, he fell silent, giving Bobby a moment to let everything Dean had said sink in.

“Kid, you should have come to me,” Bobby said after a long moment of silence. “From day one, when your father dropped you off here that first weekend when you were five, you should have told me he had stopped takin’ care of you. Or later on, even, when we fixed up that car of yours, you could have told me then too. You could have told me anytime and I would’a let you stay here.”  

“Yeah, well.. I didn’t. And I’m sorry,” Dean said quietly, frowning down at the ground as he nursed his beer. “I was already broken by the time Dad dropped me off here for the first time.”

Bobby let out a slow sigh, moving from his chair onto the couch with Dean. “You said you got discharged today. Have you been back there to see him?” He asked quietly, knowing that there was nothing he could do about the past now, even if he wished he had noticed all of it sooner.

“I went back before coming over here. All my shit was in boxes in the garage, labeled donation like I wasn’t coming home ever or something. Dad was passed out on the couch. I can’t go back there, Bobby. I can’t live in that house anymore. Not with him at least. Alone maybe but that isn’t going to happen,” Dean said quietly, slumping back into the couch and finishing off the rest of his beer. Eight months of no alcohol was making it so one beer was giving him a slight buzz. It was better than being sober to talk about this though. “I was going to try again today.”  
  
“Try what again?” Bobby asked, finishing off his own beer and setting it aside. “Taking your life? You better not. You kill yourself and I’ll kill you,” he muttered out, shaking his head.

“Impeccable logic,” Dean mumbled out sarcastically as he rubbed his hands over his face, trying not to get worked up because he was tired and stressed and he just wanted Sam. “I said I was going to. I wouldn’t have come to you if I still planned on doing it. I mean, I still want to. Fuck, I want to so badly. I don’t want to be alive anymore, Bobby. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone anymore but I made a promise to someone that I’d be there for them and I can’t break that promise. I have to live for them and it’s so.. It’s so fucking hard. It.. It shouldn’t be this hard to not kill myself.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re not offing yourself anytime soon. You better not do it ever. Things’ll get better. You said you don’t want to go home so you’re going to stay here until we can find you somewhere of your own, end of story,” Bobby said seriously, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulders. “You can pick up some hours in the shop if you want to earn some money and we’ll figure this shit out. It might be eighteen years too late but you’re always gonna have a home here, kid.”

“I’ll work on the cars for free,” Dean offered quietly. “You don’t have to pay me to work in the shop. If you’re.. If you’re genuinely okay with me staying here, I’ll work for free.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll work for pay and you’ll stay here anyway. Cook dinner a couple times a week if you’re up for it and I’ll count that as your rent,” Bobby said seriously. “Plus, it’s only short term. We need to get you back on your feet and then we’ll figure out something for the long term.”

“Thank you,” Dean said quietly, his voice still somewhat emotionless because he didn’t know how to react. It was good, very good that Bobby was letting him stay but it was still hard to accept because Dean knew he was going to be a burden and that was going to make him feel even more guilty and more like a waste of space.

“So, who’s this person you promised you’d live for? That’s a major thing to promise. Find yourself a girl or something? A friend?” Bobby asked after they had been quiet for a few more minutes. He still hadn’t processed the extent of what Dean had said but it was probably better that way.

“‘Or something’ sounds about right,” Dean muttered out quietly, figuring if he was going to not be able to live here because he had a boyfriend, it would be better to tell Bobby now than it would be to tell him once he had already moved in. “A boyfriend.”

“A.. boyfriend? I thought you didn’t do the whole..” Bobby vaguely gestured with his hand. “..Relationships thing.”

“I didn’t.. I _don’t_ . But he’s special. He.. he’s sick too, maybe even more sick than me. Screwed up in the head, I mean. He was in the hospital with me. He’s still there.. But Bobby, I.. Fuck, I _love_ him,” Dean whispered out quietly, as if it were a secret. He knew the universe would probably take Sam away from him now that those words were out there and that terrified him. Everything Dean loved always left him. Sam would be no different.

“Damn. Wasn’t expecting that. Well, tell me about him then, kid,” Bobby said quietly, having never in a million years suspected that Dean ‘played for the other team’ so to speak but he didn’t let it show. If someone Dean loved was helping Dean want to stay alive, they could be an alien for all he cared. “Who is this boy?”

“His name’s Sam. Sam Campbell. He’s.. He’s got paranoid schizophrenia. He’s a wreck, honestly, but I don’t care because God, Bobby, this kid means everything to me.”

“You call him a kid. How old is he?” Bobby asked with a small frown, holding Dean a little closer to his side. He knew that name from somewhere. Sam Campbell. He’d known a Mary Campbell many years ago. Probably no relation.

“He’s eighteen. I know, I know I’m twenty-two and all but he’s an adult too and it’s only four years. It’s not that bad,” Dean said quietly, suddenly starting to feel guilty about that because Bobby was right, he was too young for Dean.

“No, it’s not. Long as he’s an adult,” Bobby said seriously, letting out a slow sigh. “So he’s still in there, then? When’s he getting out and what’s your plan for afterward?”

“We’ve only been.. together-together, in a relationship, for about three months but.. I need him, Bobby. I need him in my life and I need to be with him all day, every day,” he admitted quietly, rubbing his hands over his face. “If I could afford it, I’d ask him to move in with me somewhere.”

“Three months and you want to move in with him? Ain’t that a little soon?” Bobby asked, getting a hint about how dependent Dean was on this boy. It seemed unhealthy but again, whatever kept Dean alive, he was on board with. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’ve been living together for the last five months. It worked. It helped both of us. I can’t afford it though anyways. But I need him around as much as possible,” Dean said honestly, feeling a sense of relief at being able to talk to Bobby about this. “I need him. I’ve been apart from him for less than two hours and my... urges.. are getting stronger because I have no reminder of who I’m living for.”  
  
“Well, he’s welcome to spend the night here sometimes until you can save up to get your own place. I can help out with that when the time comes. If need be, if he wants to, he can share your room with you full time, I guess,” Bobby offered with a small frown. He didn’t know why the hell he was offering that; he didn’t know the kid Dean was dating. But he’d do anything to keep Dean alive and if that meant letting a stranger live with him, so be it. Dean obviously trusted Sam and had said he loved him and Dean Winchester didn’t trust anyone. Not even him, fully, and he knew that so Dean trusting this kid, it meant a hell of a lot more than it seemed.

“You’d let him stay with me? But I would already be.. enough of a burden, just me. I mean, you don’t even know him,” Dean said quietly, glancing over at Bobby and frowning. “Really? You’d let him stay with me? Because I.. I really do need him, Bobby.”

“Yeah, kid. He can stay with us if you want him to. Again, only if he wants to, obviously,” Bobby said with a slight nod. He wasn’t sure Sam was actually going to want to stay; three months wasn’t in the time frame for moving in together but Sam and Dean’s situation wasn’t exactly normal so Bobby didn’t know.

“You’re amazing,” Dean said quietly, taking a deep breath. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said calmly, getting up from the couch. “Do you.. mind if I bring in some of my stuff?” He asked hesitantly. “It’s all in my car.”

“Bring it in. The room upstairs is empty as always. Make it your own,” Bobby said seriously, standing up as well. “But if he’s going to be living here too, then I’ll have to encourage you two to get your own place a little sooner. I’ll be paying you for your work. He can help out in the auto shop too and make a little bit as well. Save up for you two to get your own place.”

“Yeah. Definitely,” Dean said brightly, even though he and Sam had never discussed moving in together but it seemed natural enough. He’d mention it tomorrow during visiting hours.

Dean spent the rest of the day moving his few possessions inside, his blades in one of the boxes. When he unpacked them, he tucked them away in his sock drawer instead of throwing them away but fought against the urge to use one.

When evening came, he went to bed, unable to sleep without knowing that Sam was less than twenty feet away and it was then that he succumbed to the urge, getting out one of the blades and resigning himself to the bathroom. He added a few more slices to the collection on his thighs, feeling relief run through him because he had forgotten how horribly good the pain felt and how nice it felt to watch the blood run down his skin. It took everything in him to keep thinking of Sam; Sam’s smile; Sam’s laugh; Sam’s eyes; the way ‘I love you’ sounded coming from Sam’s lips, so he wouldn’t attempt to cut deep enough to bleed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 100 kudos, guys. :)


	13. Welcome Home

****Dean ended up falling asleep on the cold, hard bathroom floor but luckily, he woke up before Bobby found him covered in his own blood in the morning. Granted, he woke from a nightmare of Sam burning right in front of him and him being completely helpless to save Sam like he’d been with Kate so it wasn’t a pleasant way to wake but still, being up before Bobby was good at least. He got up and cleaned himself up, letting out a slow breath at the sting from cleaning the wounds. He tugged his jeans on, looking at himself in the mirror and shaking his head slightly at his appearance; he looked like shit but eighteen years of barely sleeping would do that to anyone. He reached up, touching his face and running a finger under one of his eyes, pressing on the bag there. God, he needed more sleep. When he slept alone, though, nightmares would plague his sleep and when he woke, he’d panic because he was all alone. And he didn’t have anyone to sleep with, really. Sam, maybe, but Sam wasn’t there.

Dean headed downstairs and before he left the house, he made Bobby some breakfast even though Bobby wasn’t up yet. He got into the Impala, got gas with the little bit of money he had in his wallet, and spent the rest of the day doing nothing but driving, dissociating to an extent which probably wasn’t particularly safe when he was driving a car. He miscalculated how long it would take to get back so by the time he stopped to get them food, he was late for visiting hours.

* * *

Sam had not slept for a single second the night before. He had almost drifted off a few times but every single time he got close to actually sleeping, the smell of smoke, the sight of fire, and Dean’s screams made him completely alert over and over again. He was even given heavy sleeping medication and he fought it, ultimately not getting any sleep.

When morning came, he spent all day ignoring all of the staff and he didn’t say a word during any of his therapies. He couldn’t focus on anything but Lucifer talking in his ear all day about how Dean was gone and how he was never coming back. That he’d probably forgotten all about Sam now that he was out or even worse, that Dean was already dead. It caused him to have three separate panic attacks over the course of the day, all of them in private so the nurses couldn’t medicate or sedate him.

When dinner came around and the start of visiting hours slowly approached, Sam felt hope begin to blossom in his chest. Dean had said that he would be there. Even with Lucifer and the voices telling him the exact opposite, Sam forced himself to go to the cafeteria, having not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day. He couldn’t without Dean to test the food for him. The nurses had tried everything, going so far as to test it themselves but Sam only trusted Dean and no one else so he didn’t eat. He was at risk of a nasogastric (NG) tube being placed if he kept up not eating, according to his doctor.  
  
As the seconds ticked by, Sam felt his chest begin to tighten and tears begin to bubble in his eyes because Lucifer had been right. Dean wasn’t coming. Other visitors were already there and Dean wasn’t. Lucifer had been right. Dean had sworn to him he wouldn’t leave and he’d broken that promise and Sam felt like he was going to throw up, faint, and cry, all at the same time. He started to get up from the table and made his way towards the door, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice.

“Sammy, hey, wait up,” Dean said as he walked into the cafeteria, walking over to their table and setting down the to-go bag of burgers from the Roadhouse. “I’d really rather not eat dinner alone,” he said with a slightly teasing tone though there was a guilty sadness in his voice.

Sam closed his eyes, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath as he turned around to look at Dean. At this point, he wasn’t even sure if Dean was actually there or if it was Lucifer playing a cruel trick on him. The band t-shirt with a flannel over top of it and jeans looked good on Dean. He sulked over, Dean pulling him down into a tight hug. Sam couldn’t help the relieved sob that bubbled out of him because this was real. Dean was real and he was here. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, clutching the back of Dean’s shirt tightly in both hands and never wanting to let go of him.

_“Pathetic. Crying over a boy. Let go of him before you hurt him like the monster you are.”_

“I’ve got you, kiddo,” Dean whispered out as he hugged Sam back. He accidentally made eye contact with a nurse across the room who looked surprised as hell to see him. As if they hadn’t expected him to be alive today either. He looked away when she smiled kindly at him, letting his eyes fall shut and resting his chin on Sam’s shoulder as he let himself hold Sam. “I’m here, Sammy. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m right here. I’m sorry I’m late. It won’t happen again, ever. I promised I’d be here and I am.”

“Dean,” Sam breathed out finally, finding the mental strength to pull away, tears still streaking his cheeks. He reached up, scrubbing them away. “Thank God,” he whispered out to himself, slipping his hand into Dean’s and walking with him the last few steps towards the table. “Fuck you, Lucifer,” he added to the man sitting across from Dean before focusing back on Dean. “I thought.. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

“Yeah, well, I made a promise and I keep my promises,” Dean said calmly, raising Sam’s hand to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it. “I brought burgers from that place I told you I liked. You up for eating one?”

Sam nodded slowly, glancing down at his lap and taking a deep breath as he calmed down. Dean was here. Everything was okay. Dean had kept his promise. “Dean?” He asked quietly as he took the burger that Dean handed him. “I know.. I know we said I would stay as long as you started accepting treatment.. But.. I can’t stay here. They.. they want to place an NG tube in my nose because I haven’t eaten anything because I can’t without you testing it and.. and I’ve been struggling so much without you. It’s only been like a day but I’ve been struggling.”

_“Wow. Just tell him he has full control over your life. Great idea. Not like he’ll abuse that power or anything.”_

Dean glanced up as he set his own burger down to take a small bite of Sam’s, testing it for him as always to make sure it was safe. “I haven’t eaten since I got out either,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t think about it without the structure of meal times here and my body’s so fucked up from years of not eating that I almost never feel hungry.”

“Would you be mad at me if I left in that way you said? MAA or whatever?” Sam asked quietly, taking a deep breath before he started to eat his burger, actually enjoying it because it was the first not-hospital food he’d had in months and the first food he’d had in 36 hours.  

“AMA. Against medical advice,” Dean said gently, pushing the cup on the table over to Sam. “Chocolate shake,” he clarified at the scrunched up, confused look on Sam’s face. “No. I wouldn’t be mad. I.. I have a proposition for you, actually. Kind of has to do with you leaving,” he said calmly. Bobby was right, three months was too early but god, he couldn’t live without Sam. “Move in with me. I’m staying with a family-friend for a little while and he said.. he said you could stay with us too until I find somewhere of my own, somewhere of our own. I need you, Sam. These last thirty-six hours have been some of the hardest of my life and I have dealt with _a lot_ of shit.”

“Move.. in with you,” Sam repeated slowly because he wasn’t quite sure he’d actually heard Dean correctly. “But you..” He trailed off, not knowing what to think. He’d never even thought about that but he wanted that, needed it really. They’d lived together for the last five months, who was to say they couldn’t live together outside of the facility? “Really?”

“Really,” Dean said seriously, looking down at the table. “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to or you don’t think you can because of your mom or whatever but.. please, Sam, just think about it. I need you around. I can’t.. I can’t keep going without you close by me all the time.” He took a deep breath, realizing how pathetic that sounded but it was entirely true. Without Sam in his life at all, he figured he wouldn’t last a week, and that was being generous, but he didn’t tell Sam that, not wanting to manipulate him in any way. Living somewhere without him was hard enough. Man, that was unhealthy. He was so fucked.

“And I feel like I can’t breathe without you nearby,” Sam admitted after a long moment of silence. “I feel like I’m breaking when you’re not close by me. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can barely think. Dean, when I told you.. when I told you I needed you, I meant it.”

“I need you, too,” Dean said quietly, that meaning so much more in his mind than a declaration of love though he did love Sam with every ounce of his very being. “That’s why I want you to do what you suggested. Leave AMA and come home with me. Honestly, Sam, you’re more of a home to me than my house ever was.”

Sam nodded finally, taking another small bite of his burger and then setting it down. “I’ll do it. I’ll.. I’ll wait ‘till morning though, okay? I want to go now but.. I have to pack up all of my things and be ready to leave. I won’t be sleeping tonight anyways so why not pack.”

Dean nodded, leaning over to press a kiss to Sam’s cheek. “We’ll get you in therapy outside of here and you can go back to school. Sound good?”

Sam had totally forgotten about school at this point but Dean was right. He could go back to school. He would live with Dean and could return to school. Things seemed to be looking up for him. He’d have to tell his mother at some point that he, first of all, had a boyfriend, and second, was moving in with him but screw her. As much as he loved her, she’d placed him in here and then didn’t support him through it. Sam was an adult and he was going to do what he wanted and he wanted to live with his boyfriend and return to school. “Sounds amazing.”

Dean smiled slightly at that, taking a small sip of the shake and then leaning over to press a lingering kiss to Sam’s lips. “Maybe we can go on a first date somewhere. Hm?” He murmured out softly as he continued to eat his burger, not even noticing that he was almost done with it. That was a first for him, finishing his food. “Something romantic,” he added with a teasing tone though it wasn’t really a joke.

Sam smiled at the idea, reaching up to wipe the last remaining tears off his cheeks and laughing wetly because god, he was so in love with this dork. “That sounds wonderful, Dean,” he said calmly, taking a few more bites of his own burger as well. “I look forward to it,” he added once he had swallowed.

“Me too,” Dean said calmly, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. Sam was going to come home with him. He wouldn’t be alone anymore. Yeah, he had Bobby, in a sense, but it wasn’t the same. He needed Sam to stay alive and he couldn’t care less anymore if it was an unhealthy level of dependency.

Sam smiled at him genuinely, leaning in to press one more kiss to Dean’s lips before he set down the last third of his burger. He hadn’t eaten in nearly two days so forcing down any more would likely have made him puke. “Tomorrow I get out,” he said calmly, the thought making him feel both fearful and relieved at the same time. “I can’t wait. I guess.. I guess we’re going to have a real life together, hm?”

“Yeah. We are, Sam. We’re going to be a real couple in the real world and it’s going to be awesome,” Dean said lightly, letting out a slow sigh that for once was more content than sad. “You and me against the rest of the world. There ain’t no me, if there ain’t no you, kid.”

“The two of us against the rest the rest of the world,” Sam repeated with a slight nod, smiling to himself as he played with the bottom edge of his flannel. “I want that.”

“Yeah? Well, you have it,” Dean replied softly, settling back in his seat and closing his eyes for a long moment before he looked to Sam. “You and me, kiddo,” he said calmly, smiling lovingly at Sam in that way he did when Sam couldn’t see him. The ‘I would watch the world burn to keep you safe’ kind of smile.

Sam fell silent as well, taking small sips of the milkshake and letting himself enjoy the time that they were spending together because Lucifer, the bastard, he’d been wrong. Dean came back for him and Sam would have to hold onto that memory until tomorrow when Dean would come for him.

When they finished dinner and visiting hours came to a close, Sam stood up first, opening his arms for a hug which Dean gladly took. His touch-starvation was still as bad as ever, even though he’d been touching Sam a lot more. It wasn’t often enough. It probably never would be.

“I love you, Dean,” Sam said quietly, taking a deep breath as he pulled away. “If it makes you uncomfortable, me saying it, I can stop but I.. I need you to know it so I hope it doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t,” Dean said as he took a pen out of his pocket, scribbling down his phone number on one of the napkins. “Call me in the morning when it’s time to get you. I want to be the one here to pick you up.”

Sam nodded, pocketing the napkin and leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Dean’s lips before he joined the rest of the patients and walked with them back out of the cafeteria reluctantly.

Dean stood there silently for a long while until he was instructed to leave, heading out and driving back to Bobby’s. It was only about half an hour after he had gotten back that his phone started ringing and he answered it. “Hello?” He asked calmly, not sure who could be calling him this late in the evening.  

“It’s me,” Sam said quietly. “I packed up. I signed the papers and I’m outside. I know we said tomorrow but I.. I tried to go to bed early and I.. I saw you, burning all over again, and I need you.. I need to see you, make sure you’re real and alive. Can you come get me? It’s cold out here. They let me charge my phone for a few minutes but it only has like two percent battery so please hurry.”

“You left? Shit. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be right there,” Dean said quickly, having not been expecting to see Sam again that night but it made him genuinely happy that he was going to. He was in his pajamas and slippers but he got straight into the car, starting the short drive to the hospital.

Dean parked outside, getting out and spotting Sam, suitcase in hand. He walked over, reaching up to brush Sam’s hair from his eyes. “I’m here. I’m okay, kiddo. Come on. Let’s get home and we’ll sleep together tonight, okay? I sleep better with you close by anyway.”

Sam stayed quiet as he put his little suitcase in the backseat of the Impala, getting into the passenger’s side as Dean got behind the wheel. Something seemed natural about this position, them being there together side by side in this car. Like he’d been there before, even though he never had.

As they started the drive back to Bobby’s house, Sam spoke up. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly, letting his head rest against the cool window and closing his eyes. “I know we said tomorrow morning. I know. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend another night there, not without you. They had me sign a million papers, saying that I couldn’t sue if something happened and gave me copies of some of my files and.. and then they let a nurse walk me out.”

“Nothing wrong with that. It’s over now,” Dean reassured as he slipped his hand into Sam’s between them on the seat. “We’re going to sneak you in, okay? I don’t.. I’m not for any introductions tonight.”

“And I’m not up for meeting anyone new,” Sam replied quietly with a nod, falling silent for the rest of the drive because he was physically and emotionally drained and he needed a break.

Dean eventually parked out in front of the small house back behind the auto shop, both of them getting out and Sam grabbing his suitcase from the backseat as they headed inside. They both took quiet steps so as not to alert Bobby that anyone was up and moving around, even though it was still quite early. “Welcome home, Sam,” Dean added in a soft whisper as they walked up the stairs, Sam smiling lovingly over at him as his response because Dean was right, he was home. Wherever Dean was, that had become home for Sam, even in the hospital it had been that way.

They got up to Dean’s room and Sam shut the door after them, locking it and moving to sit down on the edge of the bed as he looked around. Dean’s guitar was in one corner and there was a little desk in another with a lamp on it and some photographs scattered on the desk as well but other than that, the room was mostly bear. “Will you play for me someday?” He asked quietly, looking up at Dean as Dean sat down beside him on the bed.

“Someday. I’m a bit rusty. Not today. Did you already brush your teeth?” Dean asked calmly, his gaze on the guitar as Sam’s was.

“Yeah,” Sam replied quietly, kicking his shoes off and looking to Dean. “Are you going to be sleeping here too? Because two days ago, when you slept with me, it really helped. When I woke up and I was holding you.. It made it so I knew you were there and I knew you weren’t going to slip away from me.”

_“What kind of freak says things like that? He doesn’t care about helping you sleep.”_

Dean nodded, leaning to press a short kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth before he stood up. “I’ll sleep with you and you can hold me. Let me run to the bathroom real quick,” he said calmly, walking out of the room and shutting the door after himself.

When he returned a few minutes later, Sam’s trousers were off and he was just in briefs and a t-shirt, sitting on the bed and waiting for Dean. “I hope it’s okay.. I used to sleep without clothes on, just boxers, but in the facility, they made us because it was inappropriate otherwise.”

“I don’t mind at all but my bottoms will be staying on,” Dean said calmly as he shut off the light in the room, leaving them with only the little bit of moonlight that was flooding in through the blinds. He didn’t want Sam seeing the new cuts on his legs, now or ever. It was inevitable at some point but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Dean closed the blinds, leaving them in complete darkness, something that never happened in the hospital. He moved onto the queen bed, lifting up the blankets and settling himself under them.

Sam hesitated for a long while before he joined Dean under the covers, initially facing him but then giving Dean a little push so Dean’s back was towards him, allowing Sam to wrap himself around Dean like an octopus. “We fit better together like this,” Sam mumbled out as an explanation against his spine when they had settled, his eyes falling shut.

“Long as you never tell anyone I’m your little spoon, we can sleep like this every night,” Dean whispered out quietly, his eyes falling shut as he placed one hand on Sam’s forearm where it was on his abdomen. It felt amazing, having Sam close in a soft bed with soft blankets and no hustle and bustle outside the door as the staff moved around. This in itself, Dean decided, was something to live for, Sam pressed up against him and holding him in a way that kept Dean present and calm.


	14. Control

Dean woke up before Sam in the morning as always, having never been able to sleep more than five hours consecutively. He yawned, smiling a little to himself at the arms around him and very soft, quiet snoring coming from Sam. It felt amazing, waking up with Sam in a room that wasn’t a hospital room. If he never saw a hospital again, it would be too soon. He let his eyes fall shut and while he didn’t fall back asleep, he was relatively relaxed for the first time in a long time.    
  
When Dean felt Sam shifting behind him a little while later, he rolled over onto his other side in Sam’s arms so he could be facing him. He wrapped his arms around Sam, tangling their legs together under the blankets and smiling at Sam, even though Sam hadn’t opened his eyes yet. “Morning, sunshine,” he whispered out, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s and smiling that soft smile Sam never saw, the one that looked like he was totally gone for this boy, which, to be fair, he was. 

Sam smiled a little bit more at Dean’s voice, not bothering to open his eyes yet as he leaned in to press his mouth to Dean’s, kissing him slowly, sleepily. It was a little sloppy but amazing nonetheless, especially because Sam realized that this wasn’t one of the hospital’s beds. They weren’t in the hospital anymore. No nurses or doctors were going to barge in and send them to breakfast, no early morning blood draws were going to be taken, and no one was there but the two of them.

Dean was the one to pull back after a long while, much to Sam’s disdain. Still, Sam reluctantly opened his eyes to smile sleepily at Dean, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Someday,” he whispered out quietly, half mumbling but he was still understandable. “I’m going to count all your freckles. Including the ones on your ass. Those are my favorite.” 

Dean laughed, a soft, beautiful, and genuine laugh and it made Sam light up with a bright smile, dimples and all. “You have such a nice laugh, Dean. I wish you laughed more,” he said tiredly, yawning. “I’ve only heard you laugh like two times ever, three counting today, and.. I love it. Your eyes crinkle around the edges and.. and you smile like you’re genuinely happy. It’s.. It makes me really happy.” 

Dean looked away because a, Sam was wrong and he knew he looked like shit, and b, he was blushing. Sam didn’t need to see that but apparently, he had seen it anyway because Sam only smiled wider, cupping Dean’s cheek and lifting his chin up so they were making eye contact again. “You’re beautiful, Dean. Or handsome if you’re going to be a bitch about being called something supposedly feminine.” 

“I’m not a bitch,” Dean grumbled out, though his half pout disappeared pretty quickly and faded into a soft smile. “You’re a bitch,” he added teasingly.

“And you’re a.. a.. uh, a  _ jerk _ ,” Sam blurted out with a small laugh, grinning at Dean brightly. It was the worst insult he could think of at moment’s notice. 

“Bitch,” Dean murmured out again teasingly as he reached up to place both of his hands on Sam’s cheeks and leaned in, pressing his mouth to Sam’s. 

Sam mumbled a soft, “jerk,” against his lips before he kissed Dean back slowly, tenderly, and moved his hand to slip under the hem of Dean’s shirt to rest on his hip. He let one thumb skim over one of Dean’s more prominent scars, tracing it out slowly without thought.

As they continued to kiss, it gradually began to get deeper and more passionate as Sam woke up more. Dean’s hands eventually moved down off Sam’s face so one was at the nape of his neck and one was on his chest and Sam’s began to glide up under Dean’s shirt slowly. After a long while, Sam pulled away, letting his forehead rest back against Dean’s as he tried to slow his breathing down. “Sorry,” he mumbled out, causing Dean to open his eyes. 

“Sorry for what?” Dean asked with a breathless, soft laugh. “For kissing me? For calling me a jerk?”

“You  _ are _ a jerk. I’m not apologizing for calling you out on it,” Sam mumbled out teasingly with a small laugh as he, too, opened his eyes. He didn’t think Dean was a jerk at all but Dean seemed to know that it was a joke if his smile was any indication. This was the happiest Sam had been in a long time and it was the most he’d heard Dean smile and laugh ever. “But no, for.. uh, my.. my body’s kinda reacting. You know.. teenage hormones or whatever. That’s what I’m sorry for.” 

Dean scooted back a little, looking over Sam’s features and as he did, he unable to hold back another small laugh, the words, “I love you,” bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop them because it was what he was thinking and he couldn’t have kept himself quiet if he tried. Sam was an absolute dork and he was  _ absolutely _ in love with him. He paled as soon as they were out, frowning and looking away.

_ “He’s upset with you. He’s lying to you. Getting turned on from a little kissing, you pervert.”  _

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered out, looking away from Dean. “I’m sorry. It.. It was an accident. I didn’t.. I couldn’t help it.” He figured Dean was upset because his body had begun to react, not because of the words that Dean had said.

“No, no, come on,” Dean said calmly, moving both of his hands back to Sam’s cheeks so they could lock eyes again. “It wasn’t about you. It’s just.. those words. How I feel about you.. I lose.. I lose everyone, Sam. Everyone I love. My mom, my dad, everyone. And.. and having those words be out there in the world, it.. it terrifies me and makes me feel like I’m going to lose you too, Sam. And I can’t.. I can’t lose you.” 

“You’re not going to lose me,” Sam said seriously, furrowing his eyebrows and scrunching up his nose a little bit because he was kind of confused. This was a him problem most of the time, not a Dean one. But it seemed like maybe Dean just had never told him that he had similar thoughts, thoughts of losing everyone. “Never. I’m yours. I swear, Dean. Just like you promised not to leave me, I’m not leaving you. I love you, too. So much. I’m never leaving you.” 

_ “He doesn’t love you. Stop promising these things.” _

When Dean smiled sadly, looking almost heartbroken, and while Dean was the one who looked that way, it felt like Sam’s heart had been the one shattered into pieces. “I love you,” Sam whispered again. “You don’t have to tell me again if it upsets you. I know you love me too.” He didn’t entirely believe it, that Dean loved him, but he didn’t care. If it hurt Dean this much to say it, he’d never make Dean say it again. “You’re never going to lose me.” 

Dean bit his bottom lip hard, letting his eyes fall shut and taking a deep breath through his nose. He nodded, not believing a word out of Sam’s mouth but right now, he wanted a distraction. He didn’t want to think about losing Sam, about attempting to live without Sam. He had Sam here with him in this moment and he wanted to focus on that.

Sam let his eyes drift over Dean’s features, counting a few of the freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks. “You’re not going to lose me. I need you to trust me,” he whispered out, pressing his lips firmly against Dean’s and kissing him hard. He didn’t know what else to do to help Dean right now, other than reassuring him that he was there and kissing always helped him when he was hurting so maybe it would help Dean too. Maybe it would turn into more than kissing, but that was just Sam’s downstairs brain thinking.

Dean pulled back, letting his forehead rest against Sam’s. He wanted this. He wanted Sam. He didn’t want it to cope; he wanted it because he wanted to be physically and emotionally close to his boyfriend and sex was the only way he could think of to do that. “Have sex with me,” he whispered out quietly. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but I want you to know that.. that I want this and you said your body was reacting.. so..  I want this if you do. I want you, Sammy.” 

_ “He doesn’t want you.”  _

“I want you, too. I do. I want to have sex with you. But I’m still a.. you know, a virgin. I guess.. We’ve messed around but not.. sex-sex, really. I gotta lose it someday though, huh? I want to lose it with you. I’ve never been sexually attracted to anyone else anyway,” Sam replied quietly, placing both of his hands on Dean’s cheeks and kissing him swiftly before he pulled back and smiled reassuringly at Dean. “I want this, too. I want you.” 

_ “You’re going to screw it up and he’s going to leave you for someone more experienced.” _

Dean nodded slowly, hesitantly sitting up and immediately getting super dizzy but he ignored that, moving to loosely straddle Sam’s hips as he leaned down to press his lips to Sam’s, taking full control of the situation. He kissed him slowly, deeply, his hands gripping the front of Sam’s t-shirt as if he would slip away if Dean let go.

Dean had always had too much control over his life. From the age of four, he had gained control over every aspect of his own life. Far too much control. But right now, being in control felt like it was going to break him. Like he’d had too much and now he was cracking and needed to be held together. Like he needed Sam to hold him together for once instead of putting the weight of the world on himself. He pulled back from the kiss, pretty damn near crying. “Sam.. I can’t do this,” he whispered out almost shakily, eyes squeezing tightly shut which forced out a few tears. “I can’t do this.” He was getting so overwhelmed by all of the control he had that. He didn’t want control over Sam.. Sam was the one thing he didn’t want to have control over. The pressure of it all was getting to the point where he couldn’t take it anymore.

_ “He doesn’t want you, Sam. He’s changed his mind.” _

“Can’t have sex with me? That’s okay, Dean. That’s totally fine. Hey, look at me,” Sam said quietly, having been fully expecting to be the one crying during this. Not Dean. Dean had done this, had sex, before and Dean didn’t cry, period. He had not been expecting Dean to start crying at all. “I love you. It’s okay. We don’t need to have sex.” 

“I can’t do this,” Dean whispered out shakily, tears beginning to run down his cheeks steadily. “I can’t. I need you.” Screw not having sex with Sam to cope; Dean needed to give up control in some aspect of his life right now and he couldn’t think of a single other way to do that. He was too overwhelmed right now to even bother being embarrassed about what he was trying to ask or the fact that he was crying (though he would be later, he was sure of that) because this was Sam and Sam was the only person he trusted wholeheartedly to give up control to. Sam was the only person in the world that had chipped his way into Dean’s very soul and made Dean trust him with every ounce of his being.

“You have me, Dean. De, come on, you have me,” Sam whispered out, reaching forward to place his hands on Dean’s hips. He’d never called Dean that before but right now, it felt right to nickname him. He was also trying to do his best to comfort Dean in the same way Dean comforted him which he realized was not necessarily effective for Dean but he had to try. “I’m right here. You have me.”

“No. No, I  _ need _ you. Sam, I need you. I need to give up control; I only trust you to take it,” Dean breathed out, his tears beginning to cloud his vision. “I feel like I’m going to break,” he choked out, his voice trembling as small sobs began to shake through him. “I feel like I’m breaking, Sammy.” He couldn’t do this. He wanted all of the pain to be over but he had made a promise to Sam that he intended to keep so he needed something right now to act like a sort of glue, to hold him together for just a little while longer. 

Sam moved to sit up, causing Dean to be sitting in his lap instead of straddling him. “Hey, I’ve got you. You’re not going to break. I won’t let that happen,” he whispered out, starting to repeat things that Dean had said to him a million times. He carefully wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him tightly as he possibly could; deep pressure helped him, maybe it would help Dean. 

Sam wanted control too. Contrary to Dean, Sam had never had a second of control in his life. Every move he made, everything he did, even his own thoughts and body, none of it was anything he had control over and exactly as Dean needed to give up control for once in his life, Sam needed to take control. He wanted to take control. If Dean would give him control in this way, over sex, he’d take it. “Dean, I’ve got you. I’m right here. I love you and I’m right here.” 

Dean tightly wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, letting his bloodshot eyes meet Sam’s. He tried to search them to calm down, though his vision was blurry with tears so it didn’t help. “I need you,” he breathed out again before he tugged his shirt over his head and pressed his mouth to Sam’s in a fervent, desperate kiss.

That’s when exactly what Dean was asking him for fully clicked in Sam’s mind and nervous energy flooded through him. He could do this. He’d watched porn once or twice to try to get himself turned on and while it hadn’t worked, he knew the logistics of this.He moved his hands back to Dean’s hips, clutching them tightly enough to likely leave bruises unintentionally and then pulling Dean closer to his chest. He kissed Dean back firmly, taking control of the kiss even if it was breaking by a few millimeters every so often because of Dean’s sobs and gasps.

_ “He’s crying because he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want you.”  _

Sam pulled back eventually, tugging his own shirt over his head and meeting Dean’s eyes. “I’m not going to let you break, De,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to let you break. I’m never going to let you break. I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never break. And.. and if it does happen, I’ll fix you. I promise,” he rambled out.

Dean nodded quickly and a few too many times, his breath catching in his throat as another sob shook through him. He took a deep breath, letting his head drop so his forehead was against Sam’s shoulder as he tried to control his crying but he couldn’t. Eighteen years of too much control and too much pain, it was finally cracking him. He choked on another sob, reaching down to work his flannel pajama pants down and off, revealing the new cuts on his thighs and leaving Sam in only his briefs and Dean in only his boxers and socks. 

Sam noticed them, moving his hands to rest on Dean’s thighs, a thumb skimming over one of the fresher cuts. “Oh,” he whispered out, another sob racking Dean’s body at the touch, not because it was painful but because Dean didn’t want Sam to be disappointed in him. Sam’s opinion matter, no one else’s did. “God, Dean.. You relapsed. Eight months of being clean..” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled out, pressing his face into the crook of Sam’s neck. All of his emotional walls that he had built, nearly two decades worth of them, were coming crashing down for this moment in time because this was Sam and they were all alone and for once, he was vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, feeling so much guilt and mental pain at this moment. “I know. I know I did. I couldn’t help it. Don’t talk about them right now, please. Touch them all you want but don’t talk about them.”  

“Yeah. Okay. It’s okay, Dean,” Sam said calmly because Dean needed him right now and he would give Dean anything he needed exactly like Dean did for him. Plus he did want to have sex with Dean for the first time, even if it was in such an emotionally charged state because now Sam kind of felt like he might cry too. At least he wouldn’t be alone if he did. “Do you have.. Lubricant? I’ve heard spit doesn’t work too well.”

Dean only managed to nod, getting up off Sam’s lap and going to fumble around in one of the unpacked boxes. He tossed the bottle onto the bed, moving back onto Sam’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck again. His body had begun to tremble from the sobs but he didn’t care right now. He only cared about Sam in this moment, even if he felt like a damn girl for crying during all of this. 

“You’re so beautiful, Dean,” Sam whispered out, carefully helping Dean get his boxers off and tossing them aside. He didn’t know what else to do other than to talk to Dean through this. He wasn’t as good at this as Dean was, comforting someone or sex. “Remember to breathe,  _ jerk, _ ” he mumbled out, making Dean laugh wetly through the sobs which made Sam feel a little bit better and more secure. He moved his hands off Dean to push his own briefs down and off. After they were both naked, save for Dean’s socks, Sam grabbed the lube from the bed, pouring some over his right hand and holding Dean’s thigh with his left. “Do I just..” He trailed off, reaching down and behind Dean, carefully pushing a finger in without any prior warning after Dean had nodded.

_ “You're going to hurt him.”  _

Dean made a small, surprised sound at the sudden intrusion, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. It pinched a bit and it took him a moment to get used to it since it had been so long since his own fingers had been inside him but the little bit of a burn felt good compared to everything else that was going on right now in his head. It was a distraction and this was Sam, most importantly. Sam hadn’t done this before and even if he had done something wrong, Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything about it. “You’re not going to break me. I might be.. hurting, breaking, but it’s not physical. You won’t hurt me,” he whispered out, not adding the part about it being because he was already broken instead of only in the process of breaking. “I’m tough. Strong,” he added with wet laughter because right now, it was ironic; he felt like he was anything but strong or tough. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Dean,” Sam replied quietly though he did acknowledge the statement. He carefully eased a second finger in beside the first because Dean seemed to have adjusted to the first quickly. “You don’t have to be strong with me. I’m just Sam. Your Sammy. No one scary. And it’s just us here. All alone. The rest of the world doesn’t matter right now.”

“I know,” Dean whispered out honestly, adjusting himself and his position on Sam’s fingers but keeping his eyes shut. “I know I don’t have to be strong around you but I need to, for my sake, not yours. Because if I.. If I can’t force myself to be strong, pretend that I am, then I’m not going to live very long.” 

“Don’t say that, please,” Sam whispered out quietly, his free hand splaying out over the small of Dean’s back. “I need you as much as you need me, Dean. I won’t leave you and I’m not going to let you break.” He may not be good at the comforting thing but for these few seconds, that wasn’t exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to make sure that Dean knew the truth. “I’m here, Dean. For better or for worse.” 

“We’re not married,” Dean murmured out teasingly, still trying to joke around even in the state of mind he was in because doing so helped him cope.

_ “Never will be. He’ll leave you long before then. Probably pretty soon even.”  _

“Someday, maybe,” Sam murmured out quietly and the upward quirk of Dean’s lips that he could feel against his shoulder was enough to make him smile a little bit too. “Dean, how about you lay down. Does that sound okay?” He asked calmly, carefully removing his fingers from Dean. “I.. I know the basics of what I’m doing but I think it would be easier if you weren’t in my lap.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Dean breathed out, finally beginning to calm down. The sobbing had stopped for the time being and while he was still crying, he wasn’t gasping or choking on sobs anymore. He carefully moved off Sam’s lap, shifting to lay back on the bed and wiping his eyes. 

“Are you sure I can’t kiss your sca--..” 

“No,” Dean cut him off, pulling Sam on top of him, one of his hands moving to Sam’s cheek. “Ignore them. Please.”

Sam nodded, moving to carefully so he was kneeling between Dean’s thighs. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point,” he said calmly, offering Dean a sad little smile and ducking his head down to press his lips to Dean’s in a slow, loving kiss. He moved his hand back down to between Dean’s legs, pushing two fingers in once again with a little more finesse this time so Dean didn’t even flinch. Sam took it as everything being okay and started to slowly move the two fingers inside Dean sloppily because he really didn’t know much of what he was doing. 

Dean kissed him more firmly, shifting on Sam’s fingers and silently encouraging Sam to add a third by rolling his hips down against the two that were already in him, which Sam did immediately. Dean let one of his hands move to the back of Sam’s neck, holding him in the kiss as another sob bubbled out of him. Fuck, he thought he had been done with the crying bullshit. 

_ “You’re hurting him.”  _

Sam pulled back from the kiss, opening his eyes to look down at Dean and continuing to slowly work his fingers around as he looked down at Dean, trying to see any signs of pain or discomfort but Dean was already crying so it was hard to tell from that alone. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” He asked gently, letting his forehead rest against Dean’s and brushing their noses together in an eskimo kiss, not stilling the motion of his fingers because he really hoped that he was right about Dean not being in pain. 

“I’m not fragile,” Dean whispered out weakly, moving the hand that hadn’t curled in Sam’s hair to slowly trail down Sam’s body. Dean bit his bottom lip hard to hold back another sob because he was hurting, a lot, but it wasn’t physical pain and it certainly wasn’t because of Sam. “Add a fourth, spread them out in all directions,” he instructed quietly as he wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock, starting to stoke him steadily.

“Ah, fuck, Dean,” Sam breathed out at the touch, a small moan bubbling out of him and his fingers stilling because he had totally forgotten what he was doing due to the touch. It took him a moment to remember and he then followed Dean’s instructions, easing his pinky finger in with his other fingers and starting to spread them out in all separate directions, stretching out the tight muscle as best he could. They both fell silent save for gasping breaths from both of them, Sam from pleasure, Dean from both pleasure and crying. 

Eventually, Sam got Dean worked open enough and so Dean reached up to draw Sam down into a short kiss, his eyes falling shut as he whispered an, “I’m good,” against Sam’s mouth, causing Sam to pull away and sit up again slowly, teeth tugging on Dean’s bottom lip as he pulled away because that was hot, right?  

“Don’t we.. uh, need a condom or something?” Sam asked quietly, trying to think back to sex-ed but, of course, they’d never taught him anything about having sex with another guy so he wasn’t quite sure. “Do you have any?” 

“I don’t think so. But.. they STD tested us when we were admitted and before you, I hadn’t even spoken to another patient, let alone touched one so I’m, you know.. negative and you’re a virgin..” 

“And we’re going to need a shower when we’re done,” Sam filled in with a very slight smile, his nerves starting to kick in because god, he had no fucking idea what he was doing and he had total control over Dean, which was terrifying in a way but it also felt phenomenal, having control over something for once in his life. “So do I just..?” He glanced down between Dean’s legs, kind of second-guessing himself. 

“Yeah, kiddo. You do. I’m.. fuck, if you need to stop at any point, do,” Dean said with a sniffle, reaching up to wipe his eyes and nose as best he could even though they were still running. He offered Sam a loving little smile as Sam settled himself over Dean again, his weight on one of his arms as he used his other hand to line himself up.   
  
Sam squeezed his eyes tightly shut before he pushed himself in with one firm thrust, making Dean gasp slightly because fuck, that had been a teeny-tiny bit too fast. Sam shut his eyes, letting his forehead drop to rest against Dean’s shoulder as he settled himself down with his weight on one elbow. His other hand fumbled around to grip onto Dean’s hand after he’d wiped his fingers clean on Dean’s boxers which had been the closest thing to use. When he did, he gave Dean another few seconds to adjust before he was slowly pulling out and then thrusting back in, a small groan escaping him because god, this was amazing. More amazing than he’d thought because it was Dean; he was having sex with  _ Dean _ . 

Sam eventually fell into a steady, albeit slow, rhythm and Dean’s sobbing started up again at one point but instead of emotional pain, it was more a kind of overwhelming relief now because Sam was here and for a little moment in time, Dean could make himself believe that Sam wasn’t leaving him like everyone else would. He moved his hand down to carefully stroke himself in time with Sam’s thrusts. After not having actual sex for ten months and then this being Sam, someone who he genuinely loved and felt an emotional connection with, he was getting close about as fast as Sam was with only slight brushes to his prostate, heat beginning to coil in his abdomen.

“Dean,” Sam breathed out after a long while, his grip on Dean’s hand tightening to almost painful as his thrusts got more erratic because fuck, this felt amazing, having control over something, over Dean. Having Dean like this, whining and moaning under him. Having Dean in general, God. “Dean, oh, fuck,” he mumbled out desperately, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck as he continued to thrust.

“I’ve got you.. You can let go when you need, kiddo,” Dean breathed out, giving his boyfriend’s hand a tight squeeze as he gave himself a few more deliberate strokes with his hand and within a few seconds, he was coming, hard, all over his abdomen. Dean’s muscles clenched tightly around Sam’s cock as he came which had Sam coming inside of Dean seconds later with a gasp of Dean’s name. His arm that he was using to hold himself up gave out on him so he fell on top of Dean, knocking the wind out of an already breathless Dean.

“You did really good, kiddo,” Dean said calmly when he finally caught his breath, feeling a lot of relief at the moment, both from having orgasmed and having Sam close to him. Had Dean been able to think clearly, he would’ve been embarrassed by how fast that had been but Sam had been right behind him so how embarrassing could it be; they’d just have to build up their stamina together. “Guess you’re not a virgin anymore, huh?” He whispered out, reaching up with his clean hand to wipe the last of the tears off his cheeks and closing his eyes again as he wrapped his arm around Sam. 

“I was wrong about the asexual thing,” Sam whispered out as he shook his head. “Man.. I was really really wrong. Demi, definitely,” He let out a slow breath, laughing happily as he carefully pulled out. He collapsed beside Dean on the bed instead of on top of him and closing his eyes. “That was.. Amazing. You, you’re amazing.” 

Dean nodded in agreement, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist as he closed his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered out as he let out a long, slow sigh. It was a little easier to say right now, even if it still made his chest ache at the knowledge that something would cause him to lose Sam now that it was out there. “Let’s take a quick shower, not now though.. In a little while.” 

After a long while, they forced themselves to get out of bed and into the shower together, both of them getting cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes. When they were dressed, Dean slipped his hand into Sam’s, leading him down to the kitchen and then he began to cook for them with the little bit of food that there was in the refrigerator.

Sam moved to sit on the counter as he watched Dean work, a little, loving smile on his lips until Bobby walked into the room. He immediately got off the counter, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets and looking to the side as Dean turned the heat on the stove down, walking over to Bobby and clearing his throat. “This is Sam,” he said quietly, internally panicking because what if Bobby didn’t want Sam here after all? “Sam, Bobby. Bobby, Sam,” he murmured out, motioning between them. 

“You look younger than I thought you would,” Bobby said seriously with a frown, getting himself a cup of coffee from the pot Dean had made. “Nice to meet you, kid. I’ll be seeing you around.” 

“Uh, yeah. Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, too,” Sam mumbled out hurriedly, hesitating for a long moment before he moved back to his spot on the kitchen counter and went back to watching Dean cook in silence. 

“Don’t call me ‘sir.’ I ain’t that old, Sam,” Bobby said calmly, which made Sam relax just a little bit. 

“Yes.. Bobby. Thank you for letting me stay here with Dean.” 

When Dean finished up making the two omelettes, he cut one of them in half and put it onto two plates, handing Sam one half and handing the full omelette to Bobby before he moved to sit beside Sam on the counter. Dean leaned into his side comfortably as Sam started to eat without his food even being tested by Dean; seeing Dean make it right in front of him had let him rationalize that it was safe and Dean couldn’t help but be proud of that little accomplishment, even if he didn’t know the rationale behind it. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was more plot than porn but you know what, I can write what I want. I wasn't going to write 5k words of smut. (Also, yes. Dean cried during sex. Shh. He's embarrassed enough as it is.)


	15. Merry Christmas

Despite Dean’s protests, Sam hadn’t called his mother to tell her that he had left the facility. He was an adult and she wasn’t going to be informed about him leaving by the facility so he wasn’t ready to tell her and he certainly wasn’t ready to go home to her yet, or ever. He was home here with Dean and Bobby. His relationship with his mother had been severely strained since his symptoms had started developing when he was fourteen; not only did the voices speak negatively of her a lot, she had gotten scared of him. In some ways, it was a rightful fear, Sam often broke things on accident or slammed doors a little too hard to try and deter Lucifer or he screamed and had panic attacks where he would lash out if someone attempted to touch him. It didn’t, however, justify her turning her back on her son and eventually when she couldn’t handle him anymore, getting him checked into Firestone Psych. Sam could have forgiven her for that, admitting him, but she barely visited him and when she did, it was for only minutes at a time and she never seemed happy about seeing him. 

So Sam didn’t tell her. He didn’t call; he didn’t go back to his house for anything, just living off of what he had brought to the hospital in that little suitcase of his and he was happy for the first time in a long time. Truly happy.  He didn't plan on returning home to her even when he did decide to tell her that he was out. He had Dean and even Bobby instead and Dean had begun to teach him about things, cooking, cars. Sam didn’t give a damn about cars but Dean seemed somewhat calmer, more relaxed when he was working under the hood of a classic car and so Sam loved that Dean was teaching him. They were both getting paid for it too, much to their displeasure. 

Sam was going to therapy twice a week and Dean would always drive him and wait for him outside in the car for the full hour sessions, never leaving. Sam also slept a lot better than he had in years because when he would wake up, fearful and upset, Dean would be in his arms, sometimes asleep, sometimes not, and it was reassuring to know that he wasn’t alone anymore. It was good. Everything was really good. Yeah, both of them still had rough days and nights but they had each other and that made everything a little bit more bearable. 

 

* * *

A little under a month passed without Dean, Sam, or even Bobby really noticing how fast it had gone because they had settled into a good routine and Sam had become a part of their little family. It felt more family-like than his home had ever felt. It was the morning of December 24th and it had snowed the previous night, covering their section of the world in a peaceful white blanket. Bobby and Dean had gotten a small tree set up in the living room a few days prior and Sam had decorated it with the few ornaments and baubles that Bobby had had. They had twinkling lights up around the house and this morning, Dean had settled himself on the couch with his legs up and one of Sam’s hoodies on, Sam still in the shower upstairs. He had made homemade hot chocolate on the stove with full-fat milk, real chocolate, and whipped cream and he was sipping on that instead of coffee as he waited for Sam to come down and join him. 

When Sam padded down the stairs a few minutes later, his wet hair flopping down into his eyes, he smiled sleepily at Dean. He picked up the other mug from the coffee table, having Dean take a small sip from it before he settled himself in close. He’d gained a good amount of weight in the last month because eating, drinking, they were both easier now that he saw Dean prepare almost all the food right in front of him. It made it less stressful and Dean’s food was amazing so it was easier to eat more of it too. 

Dean had been eating more, too, mostly because of encouragement from Sam and his ribs were no longer extremely defined. He was still underweight and eating was still a little bit hard because of that subconscious nagging to not nourish himself so that he would die but the encouraging smiles from Sam at the dinner table and even the claps on the back from Bobby when he finished his plate helped.

Dean set down his hot chocolate on the coffee table, carefully adjusting himself so he could wrap his arm around Sam’s shoulders, holding him close to his side. “Merry Christmas, Sammy,” he murmured out quietly, making Sam smile a little bit as he sipped the hot chocolate. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, Dean. Today’s Christmas Eve Day.” 

“Shh,” Dean murmured out as he let his eyes fall shut. “We exchange gifts tonight and I’m making us Christmas dinner tonight so it’s Christmas, bitch.” 

“Fine,” Sam sighed out dramatically in defeat, letting his free hand bunch up in the front of the hoodie Dean was wearing as he, too, closed his eyes. “Merry Christmas, jerk.” Sam didn’t know when that little quip back and forth had become a thing between them but it felt special to him, even if technically the words were insults because the voices could no longer convince Sam that Dean meant it in a harmful way. 

Dean fell silent after that, as did Sam, and since Dean hadn’t slept well at all the previous night, at some point, he began to nod off. He was comfortable and secure where he was so he didn’t fight it and eventually, he completely drifted off, lips parting slightly in his sleep. 

Sam noticed Dean’s body temporarily relax which made him open his eyes and set his hot chocolate down. He smiled as he watched Dean for a few moments before deciding that Dean would probably prefer to sleep upstairs in their bed so he got up, very carefully lifting Dean up from the couch. Despite his best efforts, it woke Dean and Dean flailed a little bit, his arms flying to around Sam’s neck in a panic because holy fuck, he had not been picked up in nearly two decades and that was a fucking terrifying thing to wake up to. Luckily, though, the rush of adrenaline didn’t wake him up very much and at the soft smile and kiss on the head Sam gave him, he started to drift off again, deciding that maybe being carried wasn’t such a bad thing after all. He fell back asleep on their way up the stairs. 

Sam carefully laid him down in bed before shutting and locking the door so he could go and join Dean. He settled himself behind Dean, holding him close and letting his gaze rest out on the world beyond the window where snow had once again begun to fall. 

Sometimes it felt like they were in a little bubble, all of their own. Now was one of those moments. Sam hadn’t returned to school yet and had instead been helping out in the auto shop but he did still spend hours reading the fascinating books that Bobby had. It often when Dean was dissociating and Sam didn’t want to bother him that he read, settled close beside Dean in bed or on the couch or even at the kitchen table. Things were good, Sam decided. Dean was still here with him, still loved him, and their relationship now had a sexual side to it as well which was fucking awesome in Sam’s opinion.

Instead of reading like he normally would have while Dean napped, he just let himself relax and think. It was morning so he could block out the voices more and while Lucifer was still hovering as always, Sam just closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Dean’s chest rising and falling steadily and the sight of the snow outside instead of what he could hear. At some point, he drifted off, too, and despite it being morning, both of them were sleep deprived so they slept for hours until there was a knock at the bedroom door which immediately woke Dean up. 

“Hm?” Dean mumbled out sleepily, pressing his face into the pillow. “Bobby.. Need something?” He asked sleepily, moving his hand to find Sam’s and lacing their fingers together as Sam slept. 

“If you want to cook dinner, you should start now, kid. It’s already late afternoon,” Bobby said calmly. The first week or so of Sam living there had been strange for him but Dean had been talking more, smiling more, even  _ laughing _ sometimes because of the kid so Bobby had warmed up to him quickly and now it would have felt cold and strange without having Sam alongside Dean every second of every day. He could see it was unhealthy, the sheer need for one another that the two had, but he really didn’t care. All he could hope was that there would never be any fallout, that they would never break up because they were both his boys now, not just Dean, and he couldn’t bear to see them break.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean mumbled out as he carefully untangled himself from Sam, Sam groaning out when Dean pulled away because he had been woken up. “Sammy, if you want to get up, do,” Dean said tiredly as he reached down to brush his fingers through Sam’s messy hair.

Sam nodded, carefully pushing himself out of bed and slumping against Dean as they headed out the door and then followed Bobby downstairs. Dean leaned over to kiss him quickly on the lips when Bobby looked away before grabbing the book Sam had been reading the previous day and handing it to him. He started to cook as Sam settled himself at the table to read. 

Dean smiled to himself as he watched Sam for a short while. If he had to be alive, at least he had Sam. They both stayed silent as Dean began to cook for them. He had made a pie the previous day and when the pork roast was in the oven, the potatoes were mashed, and the salad was complete about an hour and a half later, he moved to sit down beside Sam at the table. 

Sam glanced up from his book when Dean sat down, only offering him a soft smile before returning his attention to the book.

Shortly after, night had fallen and the roast was ready so Dean shooed Sam away from the table so he could set it nicely and then when everything was laid out and he had turned on the lights he had added to the table, he yelled out for Bobby and Sam. 

Sam walked in first, flashing Dean a bright grin and walking over to give him a lingering kiss. “It smells phenomenal, Dean,” he said calmly as he sat down in his usual spot, Dean joining him when Bobby walked in. 

“Sam’s right. Smells great, Dean,” Bobby agreed as he moved to sit down across from the two at the table, starting to cut the roast and then serving them all. After their dinner, just as Dean had started serving them up their pie, Bobby spoke up again. “I have a gift for you two when we’re done with dessert,” he said seriously, starting on the slice of pie that Dean had served him. “For both of you. I think you’ll want to share it anyway.”

“Oh, come on, Bobby. Really? You didn’t have to get us anything,” Dean protested as he started to eat his slice of pie. That feeling of darkness and overwhelming self-hatred and despair was only dull for this moment in time because this was the first real Christmas he had had in 18 years and spending it with the only two people he loved in the world meant so much. He still wanted to die but he was glad that he could be alive to experience this. “Seriously, whatever it is, we don’t want it.”

“Dean’s right. You already let Dean, let  _ me _ stay here with you,” Sam said sheepishly, not wanting to offend Bobby by rejecting the gift but also not wanting to accept a gift when Bobby had done so much for them already. “Keep whatever it is or return it. We’re alright.”

“You’ll want it and that’s all that I’m telling you about that subject until after dinner,” Bobby said firmly, shutting both of his boys up as they continued to eat and when they were done, Dean started to clean up and Sam helped.

Dean didn’t notice himself start to hum Christmas songs as he washed the dishes and Sam didn't point it out because he didn’t want Dean to stop but once everything except the dishes was done, Sam walked over, looping his arms around Dean’s waist and letting his chin rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s humming stopped as he smiled and looked back at Sam as best he could. “D’ya need something?” He whispered out; talking at a normal volume seemed inappropriate for how comfortably quiet the house was. 

Sam shook his head, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck and closing his eyes. When he heard the water drain from the sink and felt Dean moving to dry his hands, he turned Dean around in his arms, stepping so their bodies were pressed close together. “Do you remember our first time together?” He asked quietly. 

“Course I do. I cried like an idiot the whole way through it and it was still amazing,” Dean said teasingly, loosely wrapping his arms around Sam’s neck as Sam began to sway them from side to side just a little bit. 

“Do you remember me telling you ‘for better or for worse’ and you telling me that we weren’t married?”

“Again, yeah, kiddo. I do,” Dean said calmly, leaning up to press his lips to Sam’s in a short kiss. Yeah, Sam had gotten significantly taller than him since they’d known one another but Dean had come to love it. “Why do you ask?” 

“I said ‘someday, maybe’ and you smiled. You were crying and it made you smile. Why did you smile?” Sam asked quietly, lifting Dean up onto the counter and settling himself between his legs. He looked up at Dean hopefully, Dean tilting his head to the side a little bit in confusion. “Because it’s a nice thought?” He said though his voice raised at the end, making it sound more like a question. “I don’t get what you’re asking me, Sammy.”

_ “Shut up. Before you do something stupid.” _

“Would you really marry me someday? I’m not.. I’m not perfect. I’m not even good but I want to marry you someday, Dean,” Sam admitted quietly, despite the fear that was building up in him. He just needed to know if it had been a joke and now seemed like the least-bad time to do ask. It would hurt like hell if it had been a joke but he needed to know before he got hung up on it.. “And I want you to know that. That’s all. I want you to know that that’s how much I love you and that I’m always going to be around for you.”

“Oh, uhm.. That’s.. loaded,” Dean said with a slightly uncomfortable laugh as he averted his eyes from Sam’s gaze. “Yeah, kiddo, someday I want to marry you. Maybe not sometime soon but I need you in my life for the rest of it and so yeah, someday, if you’ll have me, I want to marry you.” It hurt in a way, saying that. Because he did want to spend the rest of his life with Sam but it almost felt like a lie because he didn’t know when he would die or when he would become unable to be strong enough to live for Sam. He figured he probably wouldn’t live long enough to marry Sam or that Sam would leave him, disappear from his life long before marriage was actually in the cards. 

Sam nodded, reaching behind himself to take a little, poorly wrapped gift out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “This is for you.” 

“Hey, you better not be proposing, kiddo,” Dean teased with a slight laugh though his expression softened when he saw how uncomfortable Sam looked. “You’re not proposing, right?” He asked in a more calm, soft tone. 

Sam shook his head, lifting up Dean’s hand and placing the little package into it before he closed Dean’s fingers around it. “You.. you said you struggle sometimes to remember that.. that you have something, someone,  _ me _ to live for so I wanted to give you something that you can keep on you to remind you of me even when I’m not super close by. I need you to remember me when you don’t want to live because someday, I’m going to marry you, Dean, and.. and you’ve gotta be alive for that. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to but.. Bobby helped me get it and.. and I think it’ll suit you. He thought you’d like it too.”

_ “He’s going to hate it. What a stupid fucking gift. He’ll burn it first chance he gets. He’ll hate it and he’ll hate you, too, for not knowing him at all.” _

Dean watched him silently for a moment before he nodded, carefully starting to unwrap the little package. He took out the leather cord that had a golden-bronze, tribal-looking, head-shaped amulet attached to it, rolling it over in his fingers silently for a few seconds before he smiled softly, genuinely. “I love it, Sammy. Thank you,” he said quietly, putting it over his head and then reaching to place his hands on Sam’s cheeks. “Pity there isn’t any mistletoe but I wasn’t going to risk either of us accidentally getting caught under it with Bobby,” he said teasingly before he pressed his mouth to Sam’s, kissing him lovingly. 

When Sam pulled back, he smiled brightly at Dean, lifting him up off the counter and twirling him around in a circle which made Dean laugh in surprise, clinging to Sam. He clutched Sam’s shoulders until Sam set him down. “You’re getting stronger,” Dean commented with a small hum. “Probably because you’re eating more. You’re getting healthier. I’m proud of you.” 

“I've been working out a little bit sometimes when you're dissociating. And I'm proud of you, too,” Sam said seriously, pressing his body against Dean’s and letting their foreheads rest together. “You’ve been gaining weight. It makes me really happy.” 

“Well, anything to make you happy, Sammy,” Dean said calmly with a little smile as he slipped his hand into Sam’s, pulling away to lead Sam into the living room where Bobby was waiting for them on the couch. 

Dean moved to sit down on the recliner chair, Sam squeezing in beside him. It was small for both of them to sit there but they would rather be totally squished than sit apart. 

Sam adjusted himself so his head was on Dean’s shoulder, all of them falling silent and just listening to the crackling of the fire that was burning in the hearth and the sound of the wind blowing outside. It was wonderful, really, until it was interrupted by Bobby’s voice. 

“Boys, I told you I had a gift for you. I do,” Bobby said as he got up, grabbing an envelope from the coffee table and walking over to hand it to Sam because Dean wasn’t attempting to reach for it. 

“If it’s cash, you know we’re both going to be mad,” Dean murmured out lightly as he let his head rest against Sam’s. As Sam opened the envelope and unfolded the letter inside, Dean couldn’t focus on the words on it without getting a little dizzy so he let his eyes fall shut, mumbling a, “read it to me,” against Sam’s hair. 

Sam glanced over at Dean before back at the letter, trying to read it in the low light of the room. “Bobby?” He whispered out quietly, looking up from the letter and then to Bobby. “I.. I have visual, uh, visual hallucinations. Is.. is this one of them?” 

“I don’t know what you’re seeing, kid, but it’s a lease,” Bobby said seriously. “I love having you boys here and I told the landlord it wasn’t a done deal so if you want to stay, you can. But if you two want your own place.. It’s a small place a couple blocks from here, one bedroom, not expensive, but the first year of rent, it’s paid for if you want to do this.”

Dean opened his eyes when he processed exactly what Bobby was saying, gaping at him silently for a few moments. “Bobby, we ca--” 

“You can and you will if you want to,” Bobby said firmly so that Dean couldn’t start rambling about how they couldn’t accept something like this. “You boys are serious about each other; yes, it’s only been like four months but you’ve been living together since before you even got together and if you want to have your own place like you told me you did when you got out, Dean, I’m offering you this. You move in in a week if you accept. January 1st.”

“Bobby, we really can’t,” Sam said quietly, looking over at Dean and then back at Bobby. “That’s a lot of money, even if you say it’s inexpensive. You really can’t do this for us..” 

“Yes or no, do you two want to live alone together?” Bobby asked, making Dean reach up to fiddle with the new amulet. “Yes, we do, but--..” 

“No ‘buts,’ Dean. You just answered the question. Sam?” Bobby asked, looking over at the younger boy. “Do you want to live alone with him?”

“Yeah, but-..”

“No ‘buts’ from you either. It’s a done deal,” Bobby said as he got up, taking the papers from Sam and setting them down on the coffee table. 

Dean forced himself up out of the chair, getting extremely light headed but even though he felt like he might faint, he pushed through it, tugging Bobby into a tight hug and holding onto him silently for a long while. “Thank you,” he whispered as he finally pulled away. “Thank you so much. You’re awesome, Bobby.”

“Nah. I just love both of you boys and I think this is a good step forward for you gaining your independence back.. Together.” So not really independence but as close as Bobby figured they could get at this point. He had realized by now that there was no Dean without Sam and as he had come to love the younger boy, he had also realized there may not be a Sam without Dean and while it was incredibly unhealthy and he knew it, he really didn’t care. As long as both of them were alive and relatively happy and healthy, he was happy. 

“Thank you, Bobby,” Sam said quietly, also getting up to give Bobby a tight hug before he sat down again, opening his arms for Dean to rejoin him which Dean did. Dean settled back down into the chair, curling up close to Sam as Sam did the same and they let their gaze rest on Bobby for a short while before they both closed their eyes.

Bobby wasn’t quite sure when they fell asleep, tangled up together in the too-small chair but he put out the fire and turned off all the lights in the room, including the ones on the tree when he was sure they were asleep. The last thing he did before he went upstairs to go to bed was covering them up with a blanket and whispering a soft, “Merry Christmas, boys.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff to heal your hearts. I figured I would make a little collage so that you guys would be able to better see them at the ages they are. https://78.media.tumblr.com/9a939d630fcc5bbe38411ec224f2c72c/tumblr_p71k7vR8u51trxjx1o1_1280.png


	16. Sam Campbell

The next week was spent packing up the few things that Sam and Dean owned and had there at Bobby’s and on the first day of the new year, Bobby gave them the keys to the apartment and they moved in. They had a mattress, a couch, and a small TV delivered on that first day and on that first night in their new home, they had sex, slow and sensual and Sam nearly cried because he had Dean and they had a home of their own now and everything felt so safe and perfect, even if things were still bad in his head. He had spent the whole evening just whispering to Dean over and over again how much he loved him and how he wasn’t going anywhere and after sex, they had taken a bubble bath in the tub that was definitely too small for both of them to fit together.

Over the first week of the year, they got comfortably settled in, becoming relatively domestic. Dean would go to the grocery store to get them food because it almost sent Sam into a panic attack going alone or even with Dean and they would go to Bobby’s and work for a few hours on their good days. Dean would bring Sam to therapy twice a week and Sam was starting to research online high schools at his therapist’s recommendation. He couldn’t even go with Dean to buy groceries, how the hell was he supposed to go to school. But Dean cooked for them and he cleaned when he wasn’t dissociating, taking on the role as a kind of caregiver for Sam. It helped him in a strange way. Had Sam not needed help, Dean would likely have gotten worse and worse at resisting the urges to off himself. But Sam needing his help gave him another thing to live for. Things were still good though, at least in comparison to how the rest of their lives had been going before meeting each other.

On their ninth day of living together at around midnight, Sam woke up due to a chill and when he shifted to press against Dean, he found the bed empty. It immediately sent him into a panic and he yelled out, “Dean?!”

_“He’s left you. Probably killed himself or just decided he didn’t want you anymore.”_

He got up when he got no response, he was hoping to hell Dean had only needed to go to the bathroom or something. He walked out of the bedroom, grabbing his briefs off the floor and tugging them on as he walked over to the bathroom, knocking on the door. “Dean?” He didn’t get a verbal response but there was a tiny bit of movement that he could hear on the other side of the door and so he opened it, flicking on the light. His gaze dropped down to the dark reddish-purple blood on the floor and on Dean’s arms and legs and he took a deep breath. Yeah, he had known Dean was still hurting himself but he had never walked in on it; he only ever saw new cuts that had scabbed over. Dean was pale, paler than normal and even though he was sitting, he looked like he was about to fall over. “Dean, honey.. God,” Sam whispered out, crouching down beside his boyfriend and placing his hands on either of Dean’s cheeks to force him to look into his eyes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispered out, feeling a kind of morbid pleasure about being the one who got to take care of Dean for once. It made things feel more balanced. He stood up, grabbing a washcloth and getting it damp before he started to carefully clean up Dean’s arms and then his legs. He haphazardly wiped up the floor when he was done with Dean’s body and threw the cloth into the bathtub. Dean didn’t speak but he let Sam clean him up, his eyes eventually falling shut as Sam added neosporin to the new wounds and then wrapped up his thighs and arms with gauze and bandages.

“Time to get back to bed,” Sam whispered out softly, getting a new cloth wet and using it to wipe off Dean’s face gently. “Can you stand up?” He asked as he tossed that cloth in the tub as well.

Dean managed the slightest shake of his head and a distant sounding, “lightheaded,” his eyes still shut. “ ‘m sorry,” he added when Sam’s arms were under him and he was being lifted up from the ground. “Wasn’t tryin’ to kill myself. I promise,” he whispered out as he reached up to play with the amulet that hung around his neck. He was practically dead weight in Sam’s arms at the moment and Sam was extremely glad he had started to enjoy exercising because a few years ago, he would not have been able to carry Dean like this.

“I believe you,” Sam murmured out softly, even though it wasn’t quite true that he did. He nudged their bedroom door open with his foot and when he sat down on the bed, he didn’t lay Dean down, keeping his boyfriend in his arms. “Are you going to be able to sleep if I lay you down?”

Dean shook his head, letting it rest against Sam’s shoulder. “Got like an hour of sleep and then.. then the nightmares got real bad,” he whispered out, his voice a little bit slurred because he was so lightheaded and dizzy.

“Have you been drinking?” Sam asked quietly when he heard the slight slur to Dean’s voice, holding him tighter to his chest. “You don’t have to lie if you have been. I won’t be upset.”

“I haven’t been drinkin’,” Dean reassured as he pulled together a little bit of strength, enough to get off Sam and curl up under the blanket, shivers starting to shake through him because blood loss and January temperatures didn’t go well together.

“I’m gonna stay up with you tonight for as long as you need,” Sam whispered out as he carefully settled behind Dean. He was only his briefs and Dean was in boxers and a t-shirt so body heat and blankets were going to be what kept them warm. He pressed up close, wrapping his arms around Dean and feeling a little bit of relief run through him when Dean relaxed in his arms.

“I’m jealous of you. And I feel guilty about it,” Dean whispered out quietly after a long moment of silence, wanting to talk about Sam right now and not himself. “Your mom’s alive and.. And yeah, maybe she’s not the best mom ever but she loves you. We’ve been out of the hospital for over a month and you haven’t even told her that you left or told her that I exist..”

“Do you want me to tell her?” Sam whispered out as he pressed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder blade. “I.. I’ve been meaning to tell her. I have stuff I need from the house and.. and I guess I do want her to know I’ve found the most amazing person in the world to love.”

“Who?” Dean murmured out, his lightheaded state also causing him to be a little bit out of it.

“You,” Sam whispered out quietly, thinking that Dean was joking because he couldn’t get that Dean really wasn’t kidding when he asked and that he was genuinely curious as to who Sam could be talking about. “Who else? I only ever see you, Bobby, and Dr. Masters and I’m certainly not in love with Bobby or my therapist.”

“Mm. That’s nice. I love you, too. How ‘bout tomorrow.. today, in the morning, you invite your mom over to our place? I can.. I can make a nice lunch and meet her. Tell her ‘bout how amazing you are and how I promise to take care of you ‘nd treat you right,” Dean whispered out though even in his slightly dazed state, he could feel Sam tense behind him. “We don’t have to if it would make you unhappy but I wanna meet her someday.”

“I guess we can,” Sam whispered out finally after a long while. “I’ll invite her over tomorrow then. I met Bobby so it’s only fair you get to meet my mom,” he mumbled out as he pressed his face back against Dean’s shoulder and when he didn’t get a response, he frowned until he heard soft snores coming from his boyfriend.

Sam’s grip around Dean’s waist tightened and he closed his eyes, falling asleep too after a long while, worried about Dean and worried about Dean meeting his mother.

* * *

In the morning, Dean was up first but he didn’t get up because he didn’t want to scare Sam again like he had during the middle of the night so he stayed where he was despite desperately needing to pee. He waited until Sam started to shifting behind him to get out of bed. He pressed a quick kiss to Sam’s temple before rushing to the bathroom and relieving himself. When he had, he finished cleaning up the bathroom and walked into the bedroom again, pleased to see Sam sitting up and fumbling with his phone. “You gonna call your mom?” He asked calmly, leaning down to press a kiss to Sam’s head. “How about I go make breakfast while you do that?”

Sam nodded, glancing up at Dean and pulling him down into a short kiss before Dean left the room. Sam got up, closing the door for a little bit of privacy before hitting dial on his phone. It rang to the second to last ring before Mary’s voice came through.

Sam spent the next five minutes on the phone and every second of it was torture because not only did he technically come out by revealing he had a boyfriend, he also had to listen to his mother tell him about how sorry she was for not visiting while knowing it was a complete and total lie. It hurt a little bit but when Dean walked in with a tray full of breakfast, his bad mood faded quickly.

“French toast, strawberries, melon, and pineapple,” Dean said as he set the tray down in Sam’s lap, crawling into bed to join him. “I figured breakfast in bed was fitting.”

Sam curled up close to his side, picking up one of the forks and starting to eat the fruit Dean had put on the tray after Dean had eaten a piece, falling silent. “I have therapy tomorrow, right?” He whispered out quietly after a few pieces of fruit. “Because.. I think I’m gonna need it.”

“Yeah, Sammy, you do. And if things don’t go well, we have all afternoon to settle ourselves down, watch movies, play cards, all of that, before bedtime. And if you can’t sleep tonight, I’ll be right there with you, holding you and.. you know what? You know what I’ll do if things go bad? I’ll even play you a song on the guitar. How does that sound?”

Sam smiled a little bit to himself, glancing up at Dean for a moment before he let his head rest against Dean’s shoulder. “That sounds good. Thank you. I’ve wanted to hear you play since the day you told me you knew how,” he whispered out, taking the bowl of fruit and switching to eating with his fingers. “Can we play cards and listen to music until you have to start cooking lunch in a few hours? That sounds kinda nice.”

“Yeah, kiddo. Are you sure you’re ready to get your butt kicked at cards though?” Dean asked teasingly, grabbing the deck of cards out of their nightstand and starting to shuffle them instead of continuing to eat. He set the tray on the ground to the side of the bed and despite Sam still eating the fruit, he dealt them a hand for Gin Rummy. “Loser does the dishes.”

“You never let me do the dishes even when I do lose, Dean,” Sam said with a small laugh, feeling a lot better because it wouldn’t be him and his mother alone. Dean would be there too and Dean made everything easier. “You prefer to wash them and have me pressed up behind you. You shove me away when I try to wash them.”

“Yeah. I do. Good point. So fine, no bets. We’ll play for fun,” Dean replied softly, smiling lovingly at his boyfriend for a short moment before looking down at his cards and that was what they did for the next three hours or so hours, laughing and accusing each other of cheating every time they were losing and having fun, really.  
  
They got carried away and only when the doorbell rang did both of them realize how long it had been. “Shit,” Dean muttered out, tossing his cards down on the bed and getting up. He grabbed Sam’s phone, glancing at the time and then Sam. “It’s your mom. Go say hi. I’m going to.. put on some pants and a long-sleeved shirt and we’re going to do this.”

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath and standing up. He grabbed his jeans and a t-shirt, tugging them on and heading out of the room towards the front door. When he reached the front door, he unlocked the locks and placed his hand on the doorknob, standing still for a few seconds until the doorbell rang again and he finally opened it, offering his mother a tight smile.

“Sam. You’ve grown a lot,” Mary said calmly with a little smile. “And you’ve put on some weight. Good for you,” she said as she glancing into the little apartment. “Mind if I come in? Where’s your boyfriend if you don’t mind me asking?” She was a little concerned that maybe Sam’s boyfriend wasn’t actually real so she was relieved when she heard a male voice from the other room.

“I’m right here,” Dean called out right before he exited the bedroom, offering Mary a gentle smile and walking over to shake her hand. “Hello. You must be Mary then. I’m Dean. Do you prefer I call you Ms. Campbell?” He asked calmly, turning up the charm as much as he could because he wanted Sam’s mom to like him.

“Mary’s fine,” Sam butted in, closing the door once his mother had stepped in and shoving his hands in his pockets uncomfortably. He wanted nothing more than for Mary to like Dean right now because then maybe she’d believe he wasn’t as bad as she’d thought if he could get someone as amazing as Dean to love him. “Dean, this is Mary Campbell, my mother. Mom, this is Dean Winchester.”

_“They’re going to hate each other and make you pick between them. You’d pick Dean. wouldn’t you? Over your own flesh and blood. What a horrible son you are.”_

As soon as the words are out of Sam’s mouth, Mary froze, her hand still in Dean’s because she had been in the process of shaking it. “Dean.. Winchester?” She repeated slowly.

Sam looked at her, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That _is_ what I said, right? Everything okay? Do you two.. know each other or something?”

“Any relation to a John Winchester?” Mary asked, pointedly ignoring Sam and focusing solely on Dean. She wasn’t particularly religious but right now, she was praying to every god from every religion that the next word out of Dean’s mouth was a solid no.

“Uh, yeah, actually. He’s my Dad. Why?” Dean asked with a small frown. “Wait, do you know him? Oh, god.. Does he owe you liquor money or something? Look, I can pay you back whatever he owes you.”

“He’s your father. John Winchester is your father, Dean. I knew you when you were a kid,” Mary said calmly though right now, she didn’t know what the hell to do. She should have moved. The second she found out she was pregnant she should have moved across the country, gotten the hell away from their little suburb on the outskirts of Lawrence. “I knew your mother, Kate Milligan. I knew John, too.”

“Oh, wow. I actually vaguely remember you. You were a friend of my mom’s. I saw you relatively often before she.. passed away,” Dean said quietly, Sam’s hand moving comfortingly to Dean’s shoulder because Sam knew Dean didn’t like talking about his mother. “I knew I recognized your name when Sam told me it.”

“Yes. I was.. I was a friend of your mother’s. I was a closer friend of your father’s, however,” Mary said slowly, looking back at Sam and swallowing hard. “A very close friend of your father’s.”

“Really? He didn’t have too many friends, at least not after.. you know,” Dean said calmly, offering Mary a slight smile. “I’m guessing you haven’t been in touch lately though?”  
  
“No. No, I haven’t. Sammy, can I speak to you out in the hall for a moment? It’s a private family matter. It’s about your father.”

“First of all, he’s the only one who gets to call me that and second, anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of Dean. Also, really? You want to bring _him_ up now? My father? Now, in front of my boyfriend? Eighteen years of not talking about him and _now_ you want to bring him up?” Sam said a little too calmly, trying to contain his anger because what the hell, Mary? He frowned at her, slipping his hand loosely into Dean’s. “Fine. So what it is?”

Mary let her gaze drift to their hands and for a short while, she felt like her mouth was stuffed with cotton. “If John Winchester is Dean’s father, Sam.. Dean is your brother. Half-brother, by blood,” she said slowly, not sure how badly her son would react to the news but they needed to know before things went further.

_“You’ve been fucking your brother, you sicko. Just when you thought you couldn’t be any more disgusting, it turns out you’ve been fucking your sibling. Falling in love with your big brother. How fucking disgusting are you?”_

“You.. John.. Winchester is my father?” Sam asked with a small frown, looking over at Dean as panic began to build in his chest. Dean was his brother? Dean, the boy he was desperately in love with, that Dean, that boy was his brother.

Dean didn’t really process Mary’s words because Sam on the verge of a panic attack was a bigger priority than processing what Mary had said so he looked at her with a frown on his lips. “This was a mistake. You should leave,” he said as calmly as he possibly could, his grip tightening on Sam’s hand.

“I’ll take Sam with me; I’m sure this changes things between the two of you,” Mary said slowly but Dean shook his head, opening up the front door.

“Please leave our apartment immediately and if need be, we will contact you,” Dean said flatly, shutting the door hard after she had left. “Sammy, hey, look at me,” he said calmly, carefully leading Sam over to the couch and helping him sit down. He knelt between Sam’s legs, placing one hand on one of Sam’s knees and holding Sam’s other hand tightly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“You’re.. my.. my brother. I had sex.. with you. I fell… I fell in love with you, I planned on marrying you,” Sam whispered out breathlessly, bile beginning to rise up in his throat and he shoved Dean aside to run to the bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet. He felt like he was going to be sick and a weak laugh bubbled out of him because he had no idea how to cope before tears started to stream down his cheeks. Of course _, of-fucking-course,_ it was too good to be true that things with Dean could be perfect. As Dean started approaching the bathroom, Sam leaned to slam the door shut in Dean’s face.

Dean frowned, reaching a conclusion in his head. They were already both sick; what was one more problem on top of all the rest. He carefully knocked on the bathroom door, only to hear the locking mechanism click. “Sammy, hey. It’s just me, okay? Nothing’s changed.”

_“You’re so sick, Sam. Even more fucked up in the head than you could have ever imagined.”_

“Everything’s changed,” Sam breathed out shakily, grabbing Dean’s bathrobe from the back of the door and shrugging it on so he could have something warm that smelled like Dean, Dean’s shampoo specifically, to curl up in on the cold tile floor. “Everything’s changed. We can’t do this. I can’t.. I’m sick but I’m not.. I’m not that sick.”

Dean took a deep breath. For some reason, he couldn’t even bother to be surprised. He had been right. The world took everything he loved away from him. Now Sam was gone too. “I.. I need to be honest with you, Sammy. I don’t care what we just learned,” he whispered out after a long moment of silence, letting his head rest against the door and spreading out his hand on the door. “I don’t care that you’re my half-brother. I still need you in my life and no one has to know that we’re brothers. We would have never known had your mother not come over. I just want you to know where I stand. Where I stand is that I want absolutely nothing to change between us. I want to kiss you, shower with you, sleep with you, have sex with you. I want you even with this new information. Even if it’s sick, maybe.” Dean decided not to add the fact that if something did change, if Sam cut this off, never wanted to see him again, anything close to that, Dean wouldn’t last a single day. He didn’t want to guilt Sam into this. “I just need you to know that if you’ll still have me, I still want you. I still love you; I’m still in love with you.”

“Leave me alone,” Sam breathed out shakily, curling up into a ball on the bathroom floor and Dean complied when he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Spilling the contents of his heart wasn’t his strong suit and he had just done that. It was exhausting. “I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible,” he whispered out one more time before he headed to their bedroom. He had already lost Sam so at least he could now let Sam know how much he loved him without that fear of losing Sam because that fear had already been realized. He curled up in their bed after putting on one of Sam’s hoodies because he wanted to have something of Sam close to him and he was cold without Sam close; iron deficiency anemia from constant blood loss would do that to a person. All he wanted was to hurt himself because he felt so guilty but he was hurting so much that he couldn’t even find the strength to get out of bed, not even to hurt himself. Somehow, this was his fault; he should have known. He shouldn’t have dragged Sam into his darkness. He should have pushed Sam away harder in the beginning and they would have never have gotten to this point. This was all his fault and he knew it.

After a long while, many many hours and well into the night, Dean planned on getting up and going to check on Sam again but right before he got up, the bed dipped on the opposite side as Sam joined him. Even though Sam joined him, something was different. Sam kept his distance, not touching Dean at all, and he didn’t even face Dean or look in Dean’s direction as he fell asleep, leaving Dean to be awake with his thoughts and all alone in his head as he laid there. The only thing that kept him from walking out of the room right then and slitting his throat or stabbing himself, anything to be dead, was his fingers playing with the amulet and the steady sound of Sam’s breathing, giving him a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, Sam would decide that it didn’t matter either. He had come back to bed after all, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W(incest) without incest part? Nah. Also, I started writing this exactly one month ago (Mar. 14, 2018) and I've already written nearly 60,000 words so I'm happy with myself and I've written 16 chapters in a month so pretty much every other day which is also cool.


	17. Swerve

The next eight days were the slowest, most painful days of Dean’s life and he had had so so many bad days in his life. Those eight were the worst of his entire life. Sam was practically ignoring him. They still lived together, still slept in the same bed, but Sam didn’t say a word to him and Dean was nearly as silent as Sam was. He mostly said, “I love you,” now and nothing else, over and over again throughout the day because it wasn’t as scary anymore. Sometimes he would tell Sam that he didn’t care if they were blood relatives, that he wanted Sam no matter what. He had already lost Sam so at least he could make sure Sam knew that he was still loved because that risk of losing Sam was no longer there. Dean still cooked for Sam, cleaned the house, drove Sam to therapy. Everything was normal in a way that hurt far too much because of the few things that were  _ not _ normal. 

Dean had started to get worse and worse as the days went by. He had started harming himself more frequently and more intensely because of guilt and a need to feel something, anything, because there was no joy anymore, only emptiness and sadness. He was breaking into pieces and everytime that blade hit his skin, he had to resist the urge to cut too deep or move it to his neck and slice through his carotid artery and jugular vein to attempt to bleed out or cut off blood to his brain. Every day was getting harder and during the time he wasn’t doing something to take care of Sam or hurting himself, he was dissociating. Sometimes he’d partake in automatic behaviors but he wasn’t mentally present to the world for most hours of the day. He also wasn’t sleeping at all. Sharing a bed with Sam and not being able to press up against him, not being able to touch him, kiss him, not being able to do anything physical or tactile with him was making his insomnia and his starvation for touch even worse and they were already bad. Sam wouldn’t even let Dean touch him when he had panic attacks and so on the third day, Dean had given up on trying, resorting to covering Sam’s shoulders with a blanket and whispering an, “I love you,” before he left Sam alone to deal with the panic attacks on his own, something that hurt like hell to do. 

So Dean was breaking. Every day it was harder to not kill himself because his only reason to live was pushing him away. It even came to the point where Dean wasn’t sure if Sam would even notice that he died. It also hurt even more because it meant he had been right; everyone he loved left him and Sam had lied about being the one person who wouldn’t leave him. And Sam didn’t even notice that Dean was breaking. Dean’s emotional walls had all slammed back up and he had put his ‘I’m fine’ front back on. He wanted to die but he faked being strong for Sam, even when sometimes it hurt to breathe because the weight of the world felt like it was resting on his chest.

On that ninth day, Dean decided he couldn’t be in the same room with Sam anymore for just a little while, not with Sam ignoring him. It was hurting him, more than he’d ever been hurt before. So he got up from where he was on the living room floor, having been dissociating for the past few hours, and walked into the kitchen where Sam was sitting at the table reading silently. “I’m going out,” he whispered quietly. Talking seeming inappropriate because of how quiet it had been in their home. “I love you. If.. If you need me, call me,” he offered though he knew Sam wouldn’t call, rubbing his hands over his face and heading towards the front door. He paused there, looking back to Sam but when Sam didn’t even look up to acknowledge that Dean had spoken, he grabbed his jacket, stepping outside and carefully shutting and locking the door behind himself. All he wanted to do was die but his fingers curled around the little amulet and all he could do for that moment in time was hope that he would be able to force himself to live long enough for Sam to come back to him. 

As Dean walked down the stairs, he felt tears start to brim for the first time since they had learned the news, for the first time since Sam had started pushing him away. He hated crying. He hated it more than almost anything but for once, he let the tears fall as he got into the Impala and started to drive. About a half hour into the drive, he found himself on two-lane country roads outside of town. At some point, his tears had stopped as he had begun to dissociate and his driving went from a conscious to an automatic behavior. It was because of his dissociation that he didn’t see an eighteen-wheeler cross over the median line; the driver had lost control of the vehicle on the slightly icy roads. It was because of his dissociation that he didn’t hear the horn and didn’t swerve. It was because of his dissociation that he hit the truck dead on, the impact knocking him unconscious almost immediately as the Impala was practically thrown off the road.

* * *

Sam had been doing a lot better than Dean over the last nine days. He hadn’t been talking to Dean but mentally he was in a much better place than Dean was even if he seemed worse on the outside. He wasn’t desperately or even slightly suicidal, just upset, but he thought Dean was doing better than he was. He missed every single one of the signs because he had been so consumed by his own guilt. He missed every sign of Dean’s mental health deteriorating because to anyone else, Dean seemed fine but Sam should have known better because he knew Dean in a way Dean had never let anyone else know him. Sam should have noticed that Dean had been wearing long sleeves again in his presence. He should have noticed that Dean’s hand barely dropped from the necklace, the item that Sam had told him to use as a reminder of something to live for. He should have noticed that while Dean still made food for him, he barely ate a single bite himself. There were a lot of little signs but he missed all of them, something he had never done before. 

But Sam had taken the time he needed and now, on day nine, he realized he was ready. He was ready to say screw it because he needed Dean. Brothers or not, he needed Dean and he didn’t want to live like this: not talking, not touching, not kissing. He wanted them to go back to what they had been before. While Sam knew that at first it might be a little bit weird to work past the mental block of ‘he’s my brother’, he wanted them to work through it and be happy together like they had been before. He wanted to marry Dean sometime soon and no one would ever have to know that they were brothers. It wasn’t on Sam’s birth certificate; it wasn’t anywhere official that would make it impossible for them to get married. Sam wanted to be Sam Winchester and not because his father was John Winchester, a man he’d never met. Sam wanted to be Sam Winchester because he had married Dean Winchester.

So when Dean left, Sam decided that he was going to try to do something nice for Dean as an apology and when Dean got home, he would say that he, too, wanted to go back to the way things were, just like Dean had been saying to him since day one. They would go back to how they were. Everything would be okay again eventually. He took out his laptop, pulling up a simple apple pie recipe that he thought he could make, and checking the refrigerator for the ingredients. Luckily, they had plenty of apples and everything else that he needed and so he started. He had never baked before in his life, never cooked anything other than canned soup because Dean always cooked and before Dean, Mary had done it. But that didn’t matter because he was going to do this for Dean. When Dean got home, they could have pie, cuddle up together on the couch, and watch a movie. 

Things could go back to normal again and Sam was going to make it happen. He was going to make Dean a pie; he was going to kiss Dean the second he walked in the door; and lastly, he was going to apologize because he was the one in the wrong here and he knew it. He had pushed Dean away when he had no need to because Dean was still there and Dean had told him that he still loved him and that it didn’t matter that they were brothers and so Sam had done the pushing and now, he was going to pull Dean back instead of pushing him away.

As Sam started to clumsily peel the third apple for the pie, his phone started to ring. Something in him hoped it would be Dean. He set the apple down to grab his phone from the table, frowning when he saw it was Bobby. As far as he was aware, Dean hadn’t mentioned anything to Bobby but they also hadn’t shown up to do any work in over a week so Bobby probably knew something was up. “Bobby, hey. Look, I’m really sorry. We’ve been.. It’s been.. It’s been a rough week.” 

“Yeah? You think so? Because I just got a call from the hospital, the emergency room. Dean just attempted suicide and had to be airlifted in,” Bobby said flatly, though there was a tinge of panic to his tone. “So yeah, you’re going to tell me how the hell this week could have been so rough that it would have driven him back to suicide attempts.”

_ “You killed him.”  _

“Dean’s.. He.. Suicide?” Sam squeaked out, sinking down to the kitchen floor as he started to panic. He had done this. He knew he had done this. He hadn’t been around for Dean and now Dean was trying all over again to kill himself. Sam felt like he was going to cry because of the guilt. He felt like he should have known, like he should have stopped Dean from leaving the house, like he should have known that that was why Dean had left. “What.. what.. Bobby, what happened?”

_ “You killed him. You drove him to this. If he dies, you’ll be responsible for not only killing your boyfriend but your only brother, too.”  _

“I don’t know. They said.. All they said is that it was really bad and that he might not live through it and that I need to get there immediately so I’m on my way there. They called me, luckily. Not his dad ‘cause I’m his emergency contact from when he was at the psych hospital.”   


“Wait, Bobby. You gotta.. You gotta pick me up. I don’t have a car; I can’t drive there,” Sam said as he choked on a sob, the tears beginning to freely flow. He had to get there. He had to be there for Dean. He had to apologize and make everything okay again. “Bobby, please.. Please, you have to pick me up.” 

“Yeah, kid. I was planning to. He’s going to want you there. He’s told me before you’re his reason to keep on livin’ so I’m sure he’ll want you there.” 

“He won’t want me there but I need to be there,” Sam breathed out, hanging up the phone before Bobby could respond and curling up right there on the kitchen floor as he started to cry openly. He let himself cry, wishing to hell that Dean was there to hold him and tell him everything would be okay. But no, Sam had ruined it and now.. now he felt so much guilt that it was overwhelming him. He had always tried to be the reason that Dean didn’t kill himself, not the reason that he tried to. Dean attempting suicide, however, was so different from the idea that Dean was suicidal. He knew Dean was suicidal but this, knowing Dean had attempted suicide again, it was a totally different feeling; it made it a thousand times more real and a million times more terrifying.

He stayed there in the middle of the kitchen floor for the next ten minutes until there was a knock on the door and then Bobby walked in, having used his key. He frowned when he saw Sam on the floor, walking into the kitchen and crouching down by Sam’s head. “Get up, come on. We’re going to the hospital. You can cry of relief when we get there and he’s fine ‘cause I’m sure he will be, instead of crying on the floor in the middle of the kitchen with a vegetable peeler in your hand.”

_ “You’re the reason he tried to kill himself again. He won’t want to see you there. He’ll never want to see you again.”  _

“He won’t want me there,” Sam gasped out, pulling his hood over his head so he could turn his head and press his face into the side of the hood. Unlike Dean who got stoic and closed up when something bad was happening, Sam normally outwardly showed what was wrong to a certain extent. Sometimes he wouldn’t but Dean seemed to have a way of knowing when something was up with him anyways in a way that no one else could. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Get your ass off the damn floor right now,” Bobby said seriously, standing up and offering his hand to Sam to help him off the floor. 

Sam sniffled, staring up at Bobby for a long while before carefully taking his hand and pulling himself up from the floor. “Take me home if he tells me he doesn’t want me there, please?” 

“Course. But Dean wants you there, I’m sure of it. Even if you two are fighting about some nonsense. That idjit doesn’t love many people, pretty much only you, but he loves with every ounce of his damn soul. He wants you there,” Bobby said with a slight shake of his head, patting Sam on the shoulder as they headed out of the apartment complex.

Sam grabbed their favorite fluffy, red and black plaid blanket off the back of the couch as he followed Bobby downstairs and got into the passenger’s side of the pickup truck. He figured Dean would want it if he was going to be in the hospital overnight plus Sam wanted it right now because it reminded him of Dean which was comforting. “Can you tell me what happened?” Sam asked as he let his head rest against the window, his eyes falling shut. “What did he do?” 

“I don’t quite know, kid. I don’t know,” Bobby said with a small sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They said it was bad but he’s alive, that’s it. That they’d tell me more as they knew more once we got there. Lucky for us, he’s bad at the dying thing.” 

_ “He’s going to die and it’s all your fault.”  _

“It’s my fault,” Sam whispered out as he wrapped the blanket around himself, closing his eyes. “It’s my fault, Bobby. I’m so sorry. Fuck, they should lock me back up so I can’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

“Sam, take some deep breaths and calm yourself down before we get there. You’re stressed. It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s not like Dean was magically fixed when he met you so no, it’s not your fault,” Bobby said seriously, turning on the radio and flipping through the stations to a classic rock station. 

Sam was thankful for the music because it meant that he no longer had to talk. He fell silent, bringing his legs up onto the seat and pressing his face into his knees as tears began to fall again. When they parked in the parking lot of Lawrence Memorial Hospital, Bobby cut the engine, reaching over to squeeze Sam’s shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let’s go see him. I’ll leave you two alone after I check on him. Maybe you can.. I don’t know, be close, remind him that you’re around and that he has people who give a damn about him.”

Sam nodded slowly as he got out of the car, walking over to lean against Bobby for some sort of support as they walked into the emergency department. “I hope I don’t get the flu. My.. head, my you know.. illnesses.. They get worse when I get sick,” he whispered out shakily, Bobby grabbing a disposable ear-loop face mask off the wall and handing it to Sam who took it and carefully put it on. 

When they reached the counter, Sam rested his arms on the table and closed his eyes as Bobby got the receptionist’s attention. 

“Hi. What can I do for you? Oh, does your son have the flu? There’s an urgent care down the road if you are ill. We’re a little swamped here and they should be able to see you quicker,” the woman said when she saw the mask on Sam’s face but Sam shook his head. “Alright, good. So what can I do for you then?” 

“Dean Winchester. I got a call. Told me it was another attempt. Can we see him?” Bobby asked quietly, keeping his voice down for once in his life because the sick people in the waiting room didn’t need to hear about his kid’s suicide attempt. 

“Oh. You’re Bobby Singer then? Can I see some ID?” She asked as she offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry we couldn’t give you more information over the phone but he was being taken to the OR and we haven’t gotten any updates since.” 

“The OR?” Sam whispered out shakily, reaching up to wipe his eyes before he could start crying. “He’s having surgery? How.. what happened? How bad.. He..” He couldn’t think straight at the moment. Dean was having a surgery for whatever he had done. That meant it was bad, really bad, right? 

“I’m not able to tell you the rest. His medical team and the police will have to inform you about everything else,” she said gently, offering Sam a sad smile. “I’m sorry about your brother.” 

_ “She knows.”  _

“He’s not my brother,” Sam said back immediately because yeah, he was, but nobody else needed to know that. He wanted to be Dean’s boyfriend to these people, not his brother. “He’s my boyfriend. That’s it.” 

“Oh, sorry,” she replied as she nodded. “Well, regardless, you’ll have to speak to the police and his team to get the rest of the information.”

“Why the police?” Bobby asked with a small frown, wrapping an arm securely around Sam’s shoulders to try to provide him some sort, any sort, of comfort. “Are they needed for something like this? It was a suicide attempt.” 

“No. But it was a car accident so they need to be involved.” 

“It was a car accident? You said it was a suicide attempt,” Bobby said seriously, getting a little bit frustrated. “If it was a damn car accident then it wasn’t an attempt.” 

“It’s complicated, Mr. Singer. If you can go sit down in the waiting area, I’ll send the officers that were out there on the scene with him over to you when they’re done talking to the other driver.” 

Sam nodded, closing his eyes and letting Bobby lead him over to the far corner of the waiting room so they could have as much space from everyone else as possible. He adjusted his mask before curling up in his chair and sniffling as he tried to keep himself from crying. 

After about fifteen minutes, two cops, one female, one male, and a female nurse walked over to them, telling Sam and Bobby to come with them. Bobby got up and helped Sam up, both of them walking back with the three people into a little meeting room. Once the door was closed, Sam took the mask off and spoke up. “He.. They said it was a suicide attempt and then.. and then they said it was a car crash. What.. what happened?” 

“Alright, so it’s a little bit complicated. There was one witness and the truck driver is conscious with no injuries,” the female police officer started, getting cut off by Sam. 

“The truck driver? It was a truck? He hit a truck?” Sam asked, his voice starting to tremble. “He drives a car, an  _ old _ car, and he hit a truck? A big truck? A small truck? A pick-up truck?”

“An eighteen wheeler. It was a bad wreck. But it didn’t seem to be an accident,” she continued, frowning a little bit and looking to her male co-worker.

“He didn’t swerve. According to the witness and the driver, he had plenty of time to swerve away; there were empty fields on either side of the road but he drove straight into the truck. He made no attempt to avoid hitting it and the truck driver used his horn to alert him just in case he had been doing something that was distracting him, which the truck driver said he wasn’t, that his eyes were on the road, and he barreled straight into the truck. While it was the truck that crossed the median, he’s the reason they collided. He had time and space to swerve. A small car and an eighteen wheeler, he knew what he was doing; he had no seatbelt on. Paired with the honestly, shocking amount of self-harm scars on his body and six past suicide attempts that were logged in the hospital system.. Anyways, at this point, it still may be a successful attempt. He got out of surgery ‘bout ten minutes ago. He was brought in about an hour and a half ago.”  

_ “He’s going to die because of you.”  _

“It can’t be successful. He can’t die,” Sam breathed out shakily, backing up to the wall and the sliding down it to sit down on the floor. “It can’t be a successful attempt. Bobby, it can’t. You said he’s bad at dying. He needs to stay bad at dying. He needs to live through this. Six times he’s tried and six times he’s lived. He sucks at dying and he needs to stay horrible at it because he’s not bad at anything else. He has to be bad at something, he’s only human, and it has to be this, Bobby.” He was starting to shake, mostly from holding back tears because he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t. He needed to stay mentally clear for Dean right now. He needed to stay mentally clear so he could know what the hell was going on. 

“We’re going to step out and the nurse here is going to explain what’s going on,” the female officer said as she started to walk out of the room, leading her partner with her before she shut the door. 

The nurse knelt down in front of Sam, speaking in a slow, calm tone. “We’re doing everything we can but his injuries are extensive. But they’re doing absolutely everything they can. He’s young, mostly healthy. Hopefully, he’ll be fine,” she said before she stood up and turned her back towards Sam to talk to Bobby, speaking more quietly. 

“He was flown in by helicopter nearly two hours ago and he was brought into the operating room immediately. They had to perform a complete nephrectomy, so removing one of his kidneys entirely, because it had ruptured too badly to ever heal and it was going to cause more problems. The other kidney is fine and you can live with one kidney just fine. He had a lot of internal and external bleeding, lots of cuts and such from the broken windshield. There was a small tear in his large intestine so we’re going to start him on a course of antibiotics to hopefully avoid sepsis. His right femur, tibia, and fibula are broken; he’ll be in a cast for a while. He hadn’t had a CT or MRI done until after the surgeries, because his body was so beaten up when he arrived that he was barely alive so he went straight to the OR, but he’s there now and more likely than not there’s brain damage so you should prepare yourselves for that. Also, his heart seems to be beating very weakly and his blood pressure is extremely low to the point where it’s barely circulating, likely because of blood volume so we’re transfusing blood and giving fluids. He’s also anemic, seemingly from before the blood loss that occurred today. It seems to be chronic and not acute anemia. He should begin to take an iron supplement as soon as possible. When things are finished up here and eventually he’s let out of this section of the hospital, we’re going to recommend he return to Firestone Psych as a resident again. It’s in his records that he was there for a long time up until pretty recently. They may have let him out a little sooner than they should have but regardless, he needs to return. He’s clearly not better ye--..” 

“Stop. Talking,” Sam said flatly, his head still against his knees. He had picked up some of Dean’s way to cope as they had known one another and so right now, instead of crying like he wanted to, he was closing up to the world, becoming stoic to hold himself together for a little while. “His leg’s broken, whatever. Bones heal. People can live with one kidney. Some cuts and scrapes, yeah, he had a bunch of those before he was brought here. You’re giving him antibiotics for the large intestine,  _ great _ . But you said  _ brain damage _ and I don’t.. He’s not.. That can’t be right,” he said as he finally looked up, standing up to move to beside Bobby. Right now, he wasn’t fully processing everything she said but as soon as he would begin to, he was going to break and he knew it. 

_ “He’s going to die thinking you hate him. Not only is he going to die because of you, he’s going to die thinking that you absolutely hate him.” _

“His head hit the windshield, hard, shattered it. Now, things could be perfectly fine. He may only have a minor concussion if we’re lucky but the reality of it is that he’s likely not lucky and you need to prepare yourselves for the worst. I’m telling you now so that you hopefully can be prepared when the time comes for the doctor to meet with you and tell you everything that’s going on more formally broken down,” she said calmly, looking at Sam with a small frown. “You two can stay here instead of in the waiting room until he’s ready to be seen if you want to.” 

Bobby nodded as she left, leaning back against the wall and taking his hat off to mess up his hair. He placed his cap back on, his gaze moving to the ground as he fell silent, not attempting to make any conversation with Sam as he thought through everything the nurse had explained. 

Sam was mostly in shock more than anything. He didn’t know what to say; he couldn’t even think clearly, the world around him spinning as the voices took over but through them, he was trying to think of how he could tell Bobby that it was his fault that Dean may not make it because more than anything, he felt guilty. He didn’t have much time to think though because soon, an aide was walking in and offering them a sad, soft smile that Sam absolutely hated because no one should be fucking smiling right now. Not when his brother was dying. And as he thought that, he realized that was the first time he had thought of Dean as his brother first before thinking of him as his boyfriend and that scared him. 

“I can take you up to his room but the doctors have some bad news,” the woman said gently as she watched Sam stand and pick up the blanket. “I can’t share it with you. I’m just a tech but I can tell you to prepare yourselves. He’s in bad shape and he looks it.”

“That’s fine. Take us to him,” Bobby said seriously, walking with Sam behind her and was they got into the elevator, he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, holding it until they reached the room in the ICU that the aide led them to. “Is this his room? Can we go in?” 

“You can go in, but again, prepare yourselves, please. He’s got all sorts of tubes connected and it’s going to take some adjusting to.” 

“Thanks,” Sam muttered out as he shoved open the door without a second of hesitation until he actually saw his brother, boyfriend, whatever. He froze, one hand on the doorknob.

Dean was there in the bed, unconscious with a tube in his mouth, the ventilator; a tube down his nose, a nasogastric (NG) feeding tube; an IV placed on his right wrist with blood and a spiked saline bag connected; a pulse oximeter on the index finger of his right hand; and the tubing from a urinary catheter was poking out from under the blanket and connected to a collection bag that was hooked onto the edge of the bed. Dean was in the white hospital clothes that Sam had become so familiar with while Dean was in the psychiatric facility instead of a gown except he wasn’t wearing long sleeves underneath so all of the scars on his arms plus the dozens of new gashes were clear as day. He also had a row of neat sutures on the right side of his temple. Despite it all, he looked like he was just peacefully sleeping which made it worse because Sam knew Dean never slept peacefully. 

“The.. the tube in his mouth. He’s not breathing,” Sam said as a sob finally broke out of him and he slumped against the doorframe because he felt like he might collapse if he didn’t have some sort of support. “He’s not breathing on his own. That’s what that tube is, right? Dean’s not breathing?”

“I’m sorry but yes, that’s a ventilator. He’s not breathing on his own right now. The doctor will be in in just a few minutes to tell you everything. You can take a seat in the chai--” 

Sam moved the other side of the bed to sit down on the edge of the bed, taking Dean’s hand into his left hand carefully and lacing their fingers together as he looked back up at the aide. 

“Or you can sit on the bed. That’s fine. Just be careful not to disrupt anything that’s on him,” she corrected quietly. “If you need anything, his call light is that blue button on the wall and someone will be in as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” Sam whispered breathlessly, barely breathing because he was trying to keep the dam shut. As soon as he started to break, he knew it would all come crashing out. “Bobby, is he going to wake up?” He asked when the woman was gone and they were all alone. “He.. he’s not breathing. He’s not.. It’s not.. He.. He can’t..” 

“I don’t know, kid,” Bobby said seriously as he grabbed one of the two chairs from where they were beside the wall, pulling it up to the bed and plopping down. He ran both of his hands over his face. “I really don’t know. He better though or I’ll kill him a second time ‘round.” 

_ “He’s going to die because of you. Bobby will never forgive you when he finds out.”  _

Sam nodded slowly, sniffling and sliding his fingers up Dean’s arm to touch the new marks that were scabbed over. “I should have noticed he was getting worse,” he whispered out, more to himself than Bobby. “I should have noticed. I’m so sorry, De,” he mumbled out, reverting back to the nickname. In a way, it felt more childish calling him that, but right now, he kind of just want Dean there as his big brother that he had never had and to tell him that everything would be okay as if it were a little scrape to the knee or a bee sting when he was five. ‘De’ felt more right when he was feeling like he was now, vulnerable and insignificant. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.” He glanced up when there was a knock on the door. 

“Hello. I’m Doctor Mills,” the woman said as she walked into the door, shaking hands with Bobby and then looking to Sam. “I was the doctor who first saw him when he was brought in.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Sam asked quietly, reaching up to touch the side of Dean’s face carefully, his gaze on Dean and not on the doctor. “He’s not breathing on his own. Is he going to live?” 

“He’s going to live, yes. And the nurse gave you the rundown of everything else. But here’s the bad news: Mr. Winchester is in a comatose state. He’s in a coma,” Dr. Mills said calmly, a small frown on her lips as she glanced down at her clipboard. “There’s a chance he may never wake up. I’m sorry.”

_ “You’re a murderer. That’s what you are. Killed your own brother. Your own boyfriend. He’s never going to wake up and it will all be on you.”  _

That was what finally broke the dam for Sam and he let out a choked sob, moving both of his hands to Dean’s cheeks as he stared down at his brother. “Dean.. Please..” He breathed out, tears beginning to stream quickly down his cheeks. “He.. he had a necklace.. and.. and a ring. Where are those? He needs them,” he gasped out, clutching Dean’s cheeks more firmly and biting down hard enough on his bottom lip to make it bleed in an attempt to stop another sob from escaping him. It didn’t work and he gave up, letting himself sob openly despite it making him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

“His clothing had to be cut off on the scene but his jewelry is on the other bedside table,” Dr. Mills replied, still calm which was driving Sam into more hysteria. “I’ll leave you three alone.” 

“Wait!” Sam managed to breathe out, his breathing heavy as he looked to her, grabbing the little plastic baggie with Dean’s necklace and ring in it off of the table. “Can he hear me? Is that actually a thing? Can he hear me if I talk to him?” He rushed out, his hands still firm on Dean’s face. 

“Honestly, we don’t know. He may be able to. Talk to him though. Tell him things as if he were awake. About your day, about school, about work. Talk to him as if he were awake. It could possibly help and if it doesn’t help him, it may help you.” 

Sam managed a curt nod before he shakily opened up the baggie and took out the necklace, tying it around Dean’s neck and settling the amulet right where it was supposed to be on Dean’s chest. “You’ve gotta live for me, Dean. That’s what this means, remember?” He whispered out as he took Dean’s pliant, limp arm and moved it up so that Dean’s hand was resting over the necklace. “You’ve gotta wake up. I need you, Dean. I love you, no matter what..”


	18. Fight for Me

After about twenty minutes and a single nurse’s visit, Bobby got up and walked over to where Sam was sitting on the bed. “Kid, I’m going to go fill out the paperwork they need me to fill out and then I’m going to go back to your place and get you some clothes ‘cause I’m sure you want to spend the night. And then I’ll leave you alone here,” Bobby said calmly, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder and rubbing his back carefully for a moment. “Does that sound okay?”

Sam hadn’t moved since the doctor had left, still holding Dean’s hand over the necklace. He didn’t speak, only nodding as he stared blankly at Dean. Only when Bobby left the room did Sam speak up, his voice trembling. “Dean, I don’t care if you’re my brother. I mean, I do care.. It hurts, knowing I have a brother. Knowing that my mom didn’t tell me that I had one even though she knew. But I’ve decided I don’t care,” he whispered out as he moved his hands back to Dean’s face, his breath catching in his throat. “I don’t care that you’re my brother. Because I can’t live without you, Dean. This last week, nine days, whatever.. It’s been so hard. I didn’t realize how hard it had been for you and I know it’s all my fault and I’m so sorry but Dean, I’m here now. And I’m not going to be stupid like that again. I’m not going to push you away again. You’ve gotta give me that chance. I need you to wake up for you to give me that chance. You can’t be dying, okay? You can’t die. I need you. You have to fight. Fight for me, please, Dean.”

_“He doesn’t want to fight. If he had wanted to fight, he wouldn’t have attempted suicide in the first place.”_

Sam fell silent after he had said what he needed to say, taking a deep breath and kicking his shoes off. He lifted up the blanket and pushed Dean over to the side of the bed a little bit. It was painful, mentally, that Dean was essentially dead weight to push but he did it anyway, making enough space so that he could slip in beside Dean in the bed and lay down.

“The doctor said I should talk to you. That maybe it would help. I really hope you can hear me, Dean,” Sam whispered out as he placed his hand on Dean’s abdomen, feeling something underneath it that didn’t feel quite right. He pushed down the blanket a little to be able to carefully lift up Dean’s shirt, seeing a large, diagonal stitched up wound across Dean’s abdomen that didn’t fit with the old and many new neat, parallel lines of cuts along Dean’s sides. “That’s where they took your kidney from, huh?” He whispered out, carefully pulling Dean’s shirt down over his stomach again. He pulled the blanket back over them, moving his hand up to cover Dean’s heart, feeling it beat beneath his fingertips though it was faint. “They said your heart was weak,” he whispered out, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck as another sob racked through him. “They said your heart was weak and you might have brain damage. Whatever happens, Dean, I’m gonna be here for you. I’m going to stay here with you until you wake up. I won’t leave your side. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

_“He’ll never forgive you. He’s dying because of you.”_

“I love you,” Sam whispered out before letting the pain overcome his thoughts and his sobs take over as he gripped onto the front of Dean’s shirt, letting himself break into what felt like a million pieces that only Dean could put back together but Dean wasn’t there with him, not in the way Sam needed. At some point after the nurse had done another 15-minute check-in, he fell asleep, exhaustion hitting him hard from both not sleeping well since they had found out the news and from being close to Dean again. It was always much easier to sleep with Dean pressed up against him.

Sam didn’t wake through any of the checks and none of the staff attempted to wake him for hours, all of them being especially cautious so as not to wake him, actually. He didn’t wake up when Bobby set down the small suitcase Sam had used for their last hospital stay by the bed and he didn’t wake up when Bobby left, even after he had kissed both boys’ temples.

It was evening when he woke up to a nurse gently shaking his shoulder. “Sir?” She asked gently, Sam opening his eyes and blinking up at her tiredly. “You’ve been asleep for a while. You should probably eat something, maybe head home.”

“I’m not hungry and I’m not leaving,” Sam whispered out as he pressed his face into Dean’s neck further. He was hungry, genuinely hungry, but he couldn’t eat. Dean couldn’t test his food for him and so he couldn’t eat, wouldn’t eat. “I’m not leaving until he wakes up,” he added, reaching up to cover Dean’s hand where it was over the necklace with his own, covering Dean’s hand completely. “I’m not leaving him ever again.”

“You’ll have to leave at some point but we can bring in a cot for you in you’d like to spend the night here tonight.”

“I’m going to stay right here, in bed with him,” Sam whispered out, not lifting his head as he adjusted himself so his arms were carefully wrapped around Dean’s middle. “I’m not making that mistake again. I’m never going to leave his side again because I did _once_ , one time, and he tried to kill himself so I’m not leaving him again.”

“Alright,” she said calmly, nodding as she watched Sam. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Sam. I’m his br-- I’m his boyfriend,” Sam whispered out as he pressed closer to Dean, shutting his eyes again and tucking his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. “I’m his boyfriend and he needs me right now so I’m not going to leave his side until he wakes up. And tell everyone else that they better not suggest to me that I leave because I can’t. I can’t leave.”

“Alright. Well, that door right there is the bathroom. There’s a small shower in it and a sink and a toilet, obviously. And the blue button on the wall, that’s Mr. Winchester’s call light.”

“His name’s Dean. Mr. Winchester is his dad and he’s an ass so please don’t call him Mr. Winchester,” Sam said quietly, having to think really hard as he spoke to not accidentally say ‘our dad.’ “I was already told about the call light. Thanks. I just.. I just want to sleep right now, ma’am, so if you would please not wake me up again and maybe turn off the light and close the blinds, that would be great,” he added, letting out a shaky breath and waiting for the sound of the door closing to relax slightly.

* * *

The next six days passed with no problems, except Sam hadn’t eaten a single bite of food. He’d taken a sip of water here and there but on the sixth day, as he got up off of Dean’s bed, something he only did a couple times a day, he fainted, collapsing onto the floor from a combination of dehydration and lack of food.

Bobby was there when it happened so he got up, hitting the call button and poking his head out of the room. “Can somebody help in here?” He yelled out loudly, voice booming down the hall. It was late in the evening and he was sure people were sleeping but this was important. When he had yelled out, he moved to kneel beside Sam, patting his cheek and getting Sam alert again. “Sam, kid, hey. You need to eat something. Drink something,” he said quietly. “You fainted.” He’d been trying since the first day to get Sam to eat but no matter what he tried, Sam wouldn’t eat, saying to him over and over again that he’d only eat for Dean and Dean wasn’t there.

A nurse walked in, frowning when she saw Sam on the floor. “What happened?” She asked calmly moving to help Bobby sit Sam up.

“He hasn’t been eating,” Bobby said with a small frown, smoothing back Sam’s hair so it wasn’t in his eyes as Sam spoke up. “I can’t eat.. Not without Dean.”

“He hasn’t eaten a single bite in six days. I thought the kid would give in, cave if he kept not eating but that’s clearly not going to happen. He won’t eat,” Bobby said with a small frown as he looked to the nurse, not sure what to do as he resorted to rubbing Sam’s shoulders.

“I’ll talk to the doctor. I think we’re going to have to insert a feeding tube like the one Dean has, an NG tube, if he continues to refuse to eat,” she said with a small frown, both of them helping Sam up so he was sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed again. “Sam, will you eat something? Because if you don’t, we’re going to have to place a feeding tube and that’s no fun.”

“You’ll have to place the tube because I. Am. Not. Eating,” Sam said flatly, reaching for Dean’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “I can’t eat. Not without him to test it first. I can’t eat, Bobby. I can’t.”

“Place the tube,” Bobby said seriously, shaking his head. “He’ll sign the papers, we’ll pay for it, you can admit him even but he’s not going to leave this room and I know my boys, they’re the most stubborn people on this planet. He says he’s not eating, he’ll starve himself to death before someone’ll force him to eat.”

The nurse nodded slowly as she looked over at Sam, frowning at him. “We will have to admit him in the sense of putting him in the system but he can stay here. It would probably do more harm than good to admit him into a room on the general floor. I think we should also possibly see about getting some saline infused because he’s also dehydrated,” she said as she glanced at Sam’s nail beds and then gave the skin on his hand a little pinch, waiting for it to go down. “I’ll go speak to the doctor.” She got up, leaving Bobby and Sam alone.

“Sam, you need to eat, you know that, right?” Bobby murmured out as he rubbed his hands over his face. “And you need to change clothes and get cleaned up.  You’ve been wearing the same clothes since the day it happened.”

“They can shove a tube down my nose but I’m not eating,” Sam said flatly, his grip tightening on Dean’s hand. “But.. I.. I guess I will take a shower and put something else on, okay?” He asked quietly, glancing at Bobby. “I can do that. I just can’t eat. Not without Dean to test it for me.” His gaze went to behind Bobby to stare at the man, Lucifer, who was behind Bobby, taunting Sam. “But while I’m in there, make sure he doesn’t touch Dean.”

Bobby frowned, glancing back behind himself and not seeing anyone but he knew Sam could see things that weren’t there so he nodded. Whatever it took to get Sam to shower. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch Dean. Go take a shower and sit down on the floor so you don’t faint again. Get dressed and then we’ll have them insert the tube, sound good? If you think you’re going to fall, yell.”

Sam turned his attention back to Bobby slowly, nodding as he carefully got up, his whole body feeling weak and he felt like he was going to collapse again but he didn’t say anything, walking into the bathroom after he had grabbed a set of clothes, plaid pajama pants and a soft black shirt of his that Dean always liked to steal. He took the towel that was there, turning on the water and doing as Bobby told him, sitting on the floor as he got himself cleaned up. When he got out and dried off, putting on the clean clothes, he had to admit to himself that he really did feel a tiny bit better now that he was clean and he walked out of the bathroom, curling back up on the bed beside Dean in the place he had barely moved from in days.

The nurse walked back in with Doctor Mills, the doctor frowning when she saw just how pale and feeble Sam looked. “He hasn’t been eating?” She asked Bobby, figuring Sam wouldn’t give her a straight answer. “How about drinking?”

“Maybe a cup of water a day for the last few days and he hasn’t eaten anything. I’ve been trying my damnedest but he’s stubborn as his boyfriend is. They’re not healthy but I don’t blame ‘em. Both of them have been through a lot of shit,” Bobby said as the nurse handed Sam a clipboard with forms on it. Sam didn’t bother reading them, just signing them because he didn’t care what they said. As long as he could stay with Dean, he would sign any paper handed to him.

“Sam, are you going to be able to take a few more sips of water right now? It really helps with the placement of the tube. It’s easier to swallow water when placing it than swallowing it dry,” the nurse said as she opened up the package and pulled up a chair beside Sam near the bed. “You’re going to need to sit up, too.”

Sam complied slowly as he handed the clipboard back to the doctor, nodding. “Just.. hurry up and leave me alone to be with Dean..”

The nurse filled up a little cup with water, handing it to Sam and frowning a little bit. “When I tell you to swallow some water, do it,” she said as she snapped on a pair of gloves and carefully reached up to push Sam’s nose up a little bit before pushing the tube straight back into Sam’s nose.

Sam made a distressed sound and when the nurse told him to swallow the water, he hesitated for a long moment before he finally lifted the water to his mouth and swallowed, making another strange sound as it went down his throat. When it was fully down, the nurse drew back some contents, testing the pH of the contents and nodding. “It’s in his stomach. I’ll start the feed rate at 70 mL an hour?” She asked as she stood up, walking with the doctor out of the room and then returning a minute later with a new IV pole with a bag of saline on it, an IV start kit, and the bag with feeding tube formula in it. She hung the formula, priming the tubing and then connecting the tube after she had taped it to Sam’s cheek and hooked it behind his ear. “I’m going to start an IV.”

Sam nodded silently, holding out his wrist for her silently and feeling like he was going to cry because he didn’t want this, he didn’t want an IV and a feeding tube but Bobby was right. He wasn’t going to eat, he couldn’t eat, and he needed to be alive when Dean woke up so this was the only solution. He didn’t even flinch as the needle and IV cath went it, letting her tape it down and hook up the infusion before he curled up beside Dean again, closing his eyes.

“There.. I won’t die. _Great_. Now please leave,” he whispered out, the nurse smiling sadly at him because, in all of her many years as a nurse, she had never seen someone get so bad, so quickly over losing a loved one. She had seen people get bad but bad to this extent, never. Sam was clearly barely alive himself without Dean. Of course, she didn’t know any of Sam’s background or their background together. It might be more understandable then. She left the room, smiling apologetically at Bobby and closing the door as she left.

“Bobby, can you go home?” Sam asked quietly, clutching Dean’s shirt and pressing his face against his shoulder. “I want to be alone with him.. I need to talk to him and you can’t be here,” he whispered out quietly. “I need to talk to him without anyone around.”

Bobby frowned but nodded, standing up and grabbing his phone and wallet. “I’ll come back to see you both tomorrow evening after work,” he said quietly before he walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind himself.

Sam watched him leave and waited for a minute or so after he was gone to reach up and touch the tube going into Dean’s nose. “We match now,” he said with a wet, broken laugh as tears began to bubble up in his eyes. “I can’t eat without you around, De. I can’t sleep. I can’t think and it hurts to breathe because my chest is so tight. But you know what, even with everything, I’m mad at you,” he breathed out with another wet laugh, tears starting to slip down his cheeks finally.

“I’m so so mad at you. Because you broke all your damn promises. All of them. You made so many promises and you’re breaking all of them by not being here, _jerk_ ,” he whispered as his shoulders began to shake and tears began to steadily stream down his cheeks. “You son of a b-itch,” he choked out, his voice cracking. It was Dean’s thing to say that but it felt appropriate now. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me, De. You promised you would always be mine but now you’re going to die and I’m so.. I’m so.. I’m so so _angry_ at you because you swore to me, Dean. You swore to me on my life that you’d always be here. And you know what, it’s right that you swore on my stupid life because if you die, I’m going to die too. I’m going to die with you,” he breathed out, his voice becoming absolutely wrecked and broken as he started to sob, wrapping his arms around Dean as best he could. For the first time in his life, he was feeling slightly suicidal because if Dean died, Sam didn’t want to live either. “I need you, De. I need you to come back to me because I know deep down that you would never lie to me and you never have so you need to keep your stupid promises. I need you. Dean.. I need you.”

“And you know what, I don’t care if you’re my brother. I don’t care anymore. It kind of makes me happy, even. Because it feels right. It feels right that you’re my brother. It feels right that you’re my boyfriend. We don’t have to be one or the other. You act like my big brother sometimes, teasing me about my hair or about my taste in books and I love that even if I kind of want to punch you for being a jerk. And then you act like my boyfriend sometimes, letting me take control when we have sex because it helps us both and letting me sway us around the kitchen when you cook even though you’re busy. I like both sides and they don’t have to be exclusive. You don’t have to be just my brother or just my boyfriend. You can be both,” he whispered out, the anger having switched from Sam being angry at Dean to Sam being angry at the universe. “I really hope you can hear me, Dean. I just need you to know that I love you and that you were right from the beginning. When you wake up, you better rub it in my face like an older brother would. I’m expecting you to be a jerk and tell me an ‘I told you so’ so you better wake u--”

Suddenly, there was a loud beeping in the room and then a steady, _long_ beep and Sam frowned, glancing up and looking around to see what could be possibly be making the noise. His eyes landed on Dean’s heart monitor and he paled immediately, feeling like he was going to throw up but then doctors and nurses were running into the room and Sam heard something over the intercom, “Code Blue ICU 413,” being repeated multiple times. Within a few seconds, he was being led out of the room with his IV pole behind him. He had no idea what was happening but he knew what a flatline meant. Dean’s heart had stopped. He heard a “clear” yelled through all of the organized chaos inside the room, sinking down to the ground and taking a shaky breath as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating.

He put his hands together, closing his eyes and starting to pray for the first time in over a decade. He had lost faith years ago, even before all of the bad things had begun to happen to him but right now, he didn’t know what else to do so he prayed. He begged God and the angels to bring Dean back to him, begged God to help Dean, to help Dean fight. He begged God not to take away the only person in the world who he needed, truly wholeheartedly _needed_. And lastly, he apologized, asking if this was his punishment. If losing Dean was his punishment for falling in love with his brother. When he finally mumbled an “amen,” he began to sob openly, holding his face in his hands and sitting there, crying on the floor in the middle of the hallway because Dean was dying ten feet from him and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t do anything at all to save Dean and he felt so fucking useless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick reminder that I promised this would have a happy ending and it will because ouch.


	19. Hope

After what felt like hours but was only about ten minutes, a nurse walked out of Dean’s room and knelt down on the ground beside Sam, the rest of the team filing out of the room. When Sam saw the solemn look on her face, he felt like he couldn’t breathe but then she was speaking. “He’s alive. His heart’s still weak but it’s beating and he’s alive, Sam,” she said as she glanced at his hospital wristband to see his name. “And we have both some good news and some bad news.”

“Bad first,” Sam whispered out, feeling a sense of relief wash over him because Dean’s heart was still beating and that was all that mattered right now. Whatever the bad news was, he could deal with it. “What happened?” 

“He stopped tolerating his feeds so he vomited and we’re going to start him on TPN instead of the formula he’s on because we can’t risk it happening again and him aspirating the formula because if it goes into his lungs, that causes a whole host of other problems. So intravenous nutrition instead of the feeding tube. It can be a little hard on the organs but there should be no problems,” she said calmly. “We cleaned him up before we left the room and you can go back in there now. But the good news is actually amazingly good. He’s off the ventilator. It seems like the shock that we administered to restart his heart also kick-started his lungs and he’s breathing on his own. He’s still in a coma but it’s progress. It’s  _ something _ .” 

“So.. so he has to get nutrition through his veins but he’s breathing? He’s breathing without a machine to do it for him?” Sam whispered out, feeling a sense of hope bloom in his chest for the first time in a long time. Dean was breathing and it made Sam feel like he could breathe again too. “Does this mean there’s a chance he’ll get better?” 

“There’s always been a chance that he’ll get better. The radiologist talked to Mr. Singer about his brain scans and how there isn’t actual damage past a pretty bad concussion so this coma is likely his body trying to repair itself since he has a plethora of internal injuries. His lungs starting to work again on their own ups that chance that he’ll get better, though. We’ve started him on oxygen, that’s what the cannula, the tube in his nose, is for.” 

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath and smiling, genuinely smiling for the first time since they had found out they were brothers and definitely for the first time since the crash. “He’s breathing on his own,” he whispered out with the relief clear in his voice. “He’s breathing. Oh, god. He’s breathing. That’s.. That’s wonderful.” He stood up slowly, almost falling because his body still wasn’t quite restored to how it had been before he had gone days without eating. “Can.. Can I please go in and lay back down with him?” He asked quietly, one hand moving onto the IV pole to steady himself. “Please?” 

“You can go in. He’s cleaned up,” she said gently with a soft smile, opening the door up for Sam to enter and Sam did, shutting the door behind himself. He walked over to the bed, feeling like he could cry of happiness for once because there was only one tube on Dean’s face now and it was just the cannula going into his nose to give him oxygen. That was it; there was no feeding tube, no ventilator. Just Dean and one tiny clear tube running across his face and going into his nose.

Sam placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks, leaning down to press his mouth against Dean’s, kissing him firmly. Dean couldn’t kiss back and he knew that but there was no longer a tube in Dean’s mouth and Sam was just elated. When he pulled back, he let his forehead rest down against Dean’s, tears dripping from his cheeks and onto Dean’s freckled cheeks. It was the first kiss they had shared since the day Mary had told them but it hadn’t felt awkward or uncomfortable at all, even if they were brothers. Sam had poured love and relief into it because there was a higher chance now that Dean would get better and even if there hadn’t been, seeing Dean like this, without all sorts of tubes, it was comforting because Dean looked more peaceful now and less like a science experiment gone wrong.

“You’re breathing,” Sam whispered out as he grinned, a happy sob escaping him because he was just so overwhelmed. “You know what, I’m going to marry you as soon as you wake up. Okay? I’m going to get you a ring and I’m going to propose to you in a sappy way that makes you roll your eyes at me and we’re going to get married. Brothers or not, I don’t care. No one else has to know we’re brothers. I’m going to marry you and we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. Just like you’ve promised me. You and me, we’re going to get married and we’re going to be happy. You’ve just gotta wake up, De. I love you and we’ll be okay.” He smiled weakly, more tears slipping down his cheeks and falling onto Dean’s cheeks. He leaned down, pressing his mouth to Dean’s and kissing him slowly, carefully, even though Dean wasn’t kissing back because he could now, because he could now without the ventilator. It was what he needed right now, the feeling of Dean’s lips, warm and pliant against his own and for just a moment, he could let himself imagine that everything was okay.

* * *

A few more days passed and January 24th came around. Dean turned twenty-three today. When Sam woke up in the morning, next to Dean in the same place he had been over a week and a half, he reached up to trail his fingers over Dean’s jaw. He’d taken over shaving his boyfriend’s face and he had done it the night before so Dean’s face was smooth beneath his fingertips. “Happy birthday, Dean,” he whispered out first thing when he woke up, shutting his eyes again. “I’m going to.. to go out for a few minutes today, okay? I know I haven’t left your side since it happened but today, I’m going to go out. I’m going to leave and I’m going to come back. I promise. I’m not leaving you again. It’ll take me less than an hour. So if you wake up while I’m not here, don’t worry. I’ll be right back. But please.. I know it sounds selfish but don’t wake up in that hour I’m gone. I want to be here when you wake up because I want you to realize I haven’t left your side in nine days.. Not once except this time. Not to do anything but go to the bathroom. Okay? So wake up today but don’t wake up while I’m gone.” 

_ “Telling him not to wake up because you’re not here? Selfish bastard.”  _

Sam looked at Dean when he was done speaking, looking for any kind of a response but not getting one because, of course, he wouldn’t get one. “I love you,” Sam whispered out, leaning to press a kiss to Dean’s forehead and then nuzzling their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. He knocked the oxygen out in the process, reaching up to readjust it in Dean’s nose. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’m gonna get dressed and go out and come right back. The doctors won’t even notice I’m gone.” 

Sam pressed a short kiss to Dean’s lips, getting up off the bed and disconnecting his feeding tube from the pump. He figured it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he went for one hour not on continuous feeds, especially because he’d been getting steady nutrition for days now. He walked into the bathroom, showering quickly and getting dressed in something other than pajamas or sweats. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a flannel, looking at himself in the mirror and sighing quietly as he touched the feeding tube that was taped to his face. He hated it but he didn’t have to eat, something he physically couldn’t bring himself to do, so he dealt with it. It was only until Dean woke up anyways. He pulled on his shoes, walking into the main room as he messed with his hair and leaning down to press another kiss to Dean’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. Less than an hour, promise.”

Sam walked towards the door, taking a deep breath and pushing his hands through his damp hair. It would be the first time he’d left the room since Dean’s heart had stopped a few days prior and the first time he’d left the hospital since day one. He turned around, looking at Dean and smiling sadly as he said a quiet, “don’t go anywhere without me,” and headed out the door, his anxiety starting to build immediately because what if Dean died while he was gone?

_ “He’s going to die all alone without you there. You’re abandoning him,”  _ Lucifer said as he placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder, his touch searing hot as always but Sam didn’t even flinch, glancing over at Lucifer and scowling at him as they headed downstairs and out of the hospital. “He’s not going to die while I’m gone. I’ll only be gone for an hour.” 

_ “Abandoning him so he can die all alone. Probably better though. He wouldn’t want your sorry ass there with him as he dies. He’ll want to die in peace.” _

“Leave me alone,” Sam said quietly, shivering as soon as he was outside because he didn’t have a coat and it was snowing out. He shoved his hands into his jean-pockets, starting down the sidewalk towards their little section of town where they had some locally-owned shops. He fell silent, ignoring Lucifer’s taunts and the voices as he walked and after about fifteen minutes of walking, he reached the little thrift shop on the outskirts of town that he had been heading towards. 

Sam walked in, grateful that it was warm inside because he could barely feel his body anymore he was so cold. He headed to the front of the store, looking down into the case of jewelry there and skimming his fingers over the glass. Dean wouldn’t want something flashy; he would want something unique. Sam knew that. He stood there, just looking at the selection for a few minutes before he saw a simple little ring that caught his eye in the section of Dean’s size. It wasn’t fancy. It was a simple silver band with trees, fir or pine maybe, engraved onto it along one edge. They looked almost black, a nice contrast to the silver. 

Sam took another solid few minutes before he worked up the courage to speak up, asking the person behind the register if he could see the ring. When he did, he was handed the ring and he turned it around in his fingers slowly, feeling the texture that the engraving on the outside caused. Dean was tactile; he’d like that it had a texture, Sam decided as he smiled just the tiniest bit at the ring. So he bought it, spending a little more than he really could afford but it would make Dean happy and he had a feeling they wouldn’t be the kind to get separate wedding bands and engagement rings so it was worth spending a little bit more money on. The salesperson put it in a little ring box and then handed him the bag, wishing him good luck on proposing to his girlfriend and Sam only smiled at the person because he didn’t want to get any weird looks about it actually being his boyfriend.. and his brother, which was worse and the person was looking at him strangely enough as it was because of only the feeding tube. 

As Sam headed back towards the hospital, he didn’t feel as cold even though the temperature had dropped because he was going to do this. He was going to propose a thousand times over if that was what it took to get Dean to say yes because, at this point, he still didn’t even know if Dean would. But he hoped it would be enough that Dean realized he was serious when he said he didn’t care anymore about them being brothers. He walked back into the hospital, making a stop in the food court to buy a cupcake before he headed back up to Dean’s room. He placed the cupcake down on Dean’s table, raising the head of the bed with the controller and stripping off his clothes to put his pajamas back on. He moved to join Dean in bed again, a few shivers running through him before he curled up close to his boyfriend, taking out the ring from the box. 

“I was only gone for 48 minutes,” Sam whispered as he twisted the ring in his fingers. “I bought you a ring,” he said quietly. “I know you’re not supposed to tell someone that you’re going to propose but I don’t even know if you can hear me and if you can, then maybe it will encourage you to fight harder to wake up so I’m going to tell you. I’m going to propose to you when you wake up, Dean. Because I can’t live without you and I want to be Sam Winchester because I marry you, not because of John. Most of all, I want to marry you because I just.. I love you and I want to spend the rest of our lives together, long lives. I want to get old and be grumpy together and I want us to be happy. I want us to get married.” 

“I don’t know if you believe in soulmates, De, but I do,” Sam said quietly, taking Dean’s hand and lifting it up to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “I believe in soulmates. I believe you’re mine, too. Not in that lame, ‘oh, we’re soulmates because we’re so in love’ kinda way that I know you’d laugh at but really soulmates. I believe that your soul and mine are two halves of the same soul and that no matter what, we would have ended up falling in love.” 

_ “Soulmates. What a bullshit concept, Sam. Science hasn’t even proven that souls exist.”  _

“I also don’t think it matters that you’re my brother. I think maybe that was a mistake on the universe’s part but not one that matters or maybe it isn’t a mistake. Incest is a cultural taboo and we can’t have kids anyways so maybe it wasn’t a mistake. I bet even if things were different, like maybe if we’d grown up together or maybe if we weren’t sick.. I think, no, I know that even if things were different, we would’ve found each other,” Sam whispered out as he carefully slipped the ring onto Dean’s left ring finger, finding that it fit perfectly and looked beautiful on Dean’s finger. “I would’ve found you and fallen in love with you, no matter the circumstances surrounding us. Even in this situation, where we’re sick, we’re brothers, we’re broken, and even against those odds, we found each other and fell in love. I believe that no matter what we would’ve found each other. I also think we share a heaven, at least, I hope with everything in me that we do. Because if you die, if you leave me, I’m going to die too and I can only hope that you’ll be waiting for me, up there in heaven. Maybe we won’t be sick in heaven. That’s a nice thought. An eternity with you in Heaven, no sadness, no sickness.” He laid Dean’s hand down with the ring on it, settling it back to where it was normally and then adjusting himself on the bed so he could splay his fingers out under Dean’s shirt and over his heart. His hand was freezing from the weather outside but he figured if Dean was going to get annoyed with him about that, it would be the best thing in the world because then Dean would be awake.

“I hope you say yes when I ask you to marry me,” Sam said quietly as he closed his eyes. “I know it was only a month ago, exactly a month ago, that you said ‘not yet’ to me in the kitchen on Christmas Eve but I hope you’ve changed your mind and decided that you want to marry me now, not later. Because that’s something that gives me hope, getting married to you. I know I’m only eighteen, not even out of school yet. I know I’m young. But I want to grow old with you and.. and Dean? You need to be alive and not in a coma for us to grow old together. So if you can hear me, please.. Please, De, fight for me. If you love me at all, you’ll do this for me. You’ll fight for me. Because if you die, I’m gonna go with you.” He took a deep breath, focusing solely on the steady beating of Dean’s heart beneath his fingertips and the sound of Dean’s exhaling for a moment. “I also bought you a cupcake from downstairs. They didn’t have any pie.. I know it’s not the same to you, cake and pie, but I wanted to get you something. In case you woke up today I wanted you to have some kind of a treat.” He shrugged slightly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s shoulder and closing his eyes as he moved his other hand to hold onto Dean’s hand that had the ring on it now even if they weren’t actually engaged. For the first time in a long time, he had hope. Hope that Dean would wake up, that Dean would say yes. He had hope that things really would get better, that they really would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the ring if you're curious. :) https://tinyurl.com/ybz9pvu7


	20. Twenty-Five

Twenty-five days. Dean was in a coma for twenty-five fucking days and Sam had only been getting even worse as time went on. His hallucinations were getting worse. His mental breakdowns were getting more frequent, significantly worse, and much longer in duration. His pain that was fully psychosomatic on both his skin in some places and mostly in his stomach, it had gotten excruciating. It had gotten so bad that it was causing him to throw up up to four times a day. He’d even thrown up his NG tube three times in the last couple weeks. Sam was crashing and burning without Dean to keep him stable.

On the first Sunday of February around four in the morning, Dean woke up with a groan, his hand with his pulse oximeter moving up to his face to cover his eyes as he rolled onto his side and threw up stomach acid and bile onto the floor over the edge of the bed. The pulse oximeter fell off in the process, causing a loud beeping in the room.  
  
The sound of retching woke Sam up before the beeping and he rolled onto his side to face Dean, to reach out to cover Dean’s heart to make sure it was still beating because lots of beeping was never a good thing. However, Dean wasn’t just laying there completely still; he was half sitting up, hunched over the edge of the bed and Sam laid back down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Just a hallucination. It was just a hallucination. It had to be. He’d seen Dean wake up in his dreams, nightmares really, a few times. He’d seen Dean wake up, tell Sam he never wanted to see him again, tell Sam it was Sam's fault that Dean wanted to be dead. He’d gone through this a hundred times and every single one of those times, he’d been hopeful and crushed and right now, despite how much he was trying to convince himself it wasn’t real, he was still hopeful and so he gathered every ounce of strength in him and whispered out a, “Dean, honey?” It was a nickname he’d begun to use much more since the coma, and even more than that since Dean’s heart had stopped. 

“Hm?” Dean mumbled out before he fell into a coughing fit, taking a moment to realize that Sam was talking to him for the first time in nine days, at least that’s what it felt like to him. These last twenty-five days didn’t exist in any way except vague memories of Sam’s voice in his head. “Hey.. You’re--” Cough. “Talkin’ to me,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse and raw but he was smiling as much as he could muster. He grabbed a tissue from the box, wiping off his mouth and laying back down on his back. “What the hell is that beeping? Is the smoke alarm going off? If there’s a fire, I swear to God we need to run,” he said as he started to try to swing his legs over the edge of the bed but one of them.. had something on it? What the fuck. He lifted up the blanket, frowning to himself when he saw the massive cast. “Did I break my leg? When the hell did that happen?”

Sam stayed quiet, silently staring at him and reaching up to hit the call button as his body began to shake because if this was another hallucination, Sam was pretty sure he was going to break into enough pieces that he wouldn’t be able to put himself back together again. It felt too real. “You.. you tried to kill yourself,” Sam whispered out shakily, not reaching out for Dean like he wanted to because if his hand went straight through Dean or Dean felt like he was searingly hot like burning coals, Sam knew he wouldn’t last another day. “You.. you.. you were in a car crash, De..”

“I didn’t try to kill myself. What are you talking about?” Dean said immediately as he turned to look back at Sam and then tried to look around the room in the dark, a wave of vertigo hitting him and he had to lay back and close his eyes, taking a few heaving breaths.

The door opened and the light flicked on and the night shift nurse frowned. “Sam, did you throw up again?” She asked gently, poking her head out to call one of her colleagues to bring clean up supplies as she walked over, putting Dean’s pulse oximeter back onto his finger. 

Dean opened his eyes at the movement of his hand, scaring the living daylights of the nurse. “Dean?” She asked quickly, taking her penlight out and immediately shining it into Dean’s eyes to check his reflex, Dean swatting it away. 

“What the fuck, lady?” Dean said as he closed his eyes again. “Where the hell are we? Sam, what is going on?” 

“Dean, we’re in the hospital. You tried to kill yourself,” Sam whispered out, relief flooding over him because the nurse could see him too. The nurse could see that Dean was awake too which meant it wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t a hallucination. “Dean, you’re awake..” He breathed out as the realization hit him and he threw his arms around Dean, hugging him as tightly as he could and starting to sob into Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean looked at the nurse with a confused expression, carefully wrapping his arms around Sam and pressing his face into the greasy, absolute disaster that was Sam’s hair. It was the most amazing thing in the world, having Sam touch him again. These last nine days had been way too long to go without touching his boyfriend and so it felt amazing, even if Sam was crying against him. That was good too in a kind of way because it meant Sam was accepting Dean as comfort again and he hadn’t been doing that since they’d found out about their blood relationship. “Hey, I’ve got you, Sammy,” he murmured out soothingly despite the fact that it hurt his throat a little to talk, figuring they could figure out everything else Sam was talking about, a hospital and a supposed suicide attempt apparently, later. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Everything’s okay.” 

Sam only started to sob harder, clinging to the back of Dean’s shirt. It was relief he was sobbing from for the first time in ages because god, Dean was alive and holding him and everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened from here on out, it was going to be okay. The last thing on Sam’s mind was the fact that they were brothers. That didn’t matter at all right now. All that mattered was that Dean was hugging him back, that Dean’s hands were firm on his back, not limp or lifeless. “Dean.. Dean, oh, god.. You’re here. You’re talking to me. You’re alive.” 

“Yeah, Sammy. I’m here,” Dean said as he looked back at the nurse with even more confusion, running his fingers soothingly through Sam’s hair. It was good that Sam was talking to him but he didn’t really understand why Sam was sobbing and why Sam had a tube in his nose, why his leg was in a cast, why the room was spinning so much, and most importantly, he had no clue why he was in the hospital, if Sam was right about where he’d said they were.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” the nurse said calmly after she had cleaned up the floor and taken Dean’s vitals, leaving the room to get the doctor.

“Sammy, I need you to calm down,” Dean said calmly as he pulled Sam’s face off his shoulder, stroking his hair back and letting them lock eyes now that the room was lit. His eyes were having a little trouble adjusting but he could see well enough to map out the sunflowers in his little brother’s eyes. “Take some deep breaths and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on because I have exactly zero clue about what’s happening,” he murmured out softly, pressing his forehead to Sam’s and taking one of Sam’s hands to place it on his heart to feel his heartbeat, something that always soothed Sam.

Sam complied, taking a few heaving deep breaths like Dean had earlier before his breathing started becoming more normal and calm, his eyes searching the green of Dean’s. “Dean.. You tried to kill yourself,” he said finally after a long while. “W-..What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I remember.. The sound of metal scraping metal and.. and that’s it. That’s the last thing I remember. We woke up this morning; I made you breakfast. I.. I sat down in the living room and then.. and then I just couldn’t take not talking to you anymore so I left the house to go for a drive, clear my head a little, you know? And then I remember the sound of metal hitting metal and thinking about you, reaching for my necklace.. I don’t remember anything after that.” 

“Metal hitting metal was your car hitting.. hitting an eighteen-wheeler, Dean.. A truck.. You.. you were in a car crash. Are you telling me you didn’t do it on purpose?” Sam whispered out weakly, still feeling like this was nothing more than a hallucination but Dean’s hands were warm and kind of clammy on his face and their eyes were locked and so Sam prayed for a second that this was real because if it wasn’t, he would be mentally gone and he knew it. If this was all in his head, Sam was pretty sure he would never recover. He understood now, how Dean felt when he said he just didn’t want to be alive anymore, that he didn’t want to deal with the pain. He understood it now and if Dean wasn’t awake, if this wasn’t real, Sam thought for a second that he might follow in Dean’s footsteps, try to off himself.

“I.. I think I remember that. No, no, I didn’t do it on purpose. I.. I just went for a drive. I was going to come right home after I was feeling a little less bad. I was going to try and talk to you again.” 

“You never did. You never came home. You were.. You were airlifted to the hospital and.. and you’ve been in a coma, Dean.. For twenty-four, twenty-five days as of midnight,” Sam whispered out as he reaching up to touch Dean’s face, adjusting the cannula in his nose because it had fallen and was crooked. “You weren’t breathing. They had you on a ventilator. And then.. And then you died; your heart stopped. But when they started it again, when they started it, you started breathing again but you were still.. you were still in a coma. You broke your leg, all three bones in it, and you ruptured one of your kidneys - you have a scar from it - and.. and you got a concussion. Your body shut down to repair itself, they think. For weeks, Dean. You’ve been in a coma for weeks, Dean..”

Dean lifted up his shirt, frowning at the long diagonal scar on his abdomen. He trailed his fingers along it, chewing on his bottom lip. He believed Sam; Sam wouldn’t lie to him, not about something this major and Sam looked like an absolute wreck which helped the believability of the situation.  “I’ve been in a coma,” Dean whispered out as he pulled his shirt back down, taking a deep breath. That was a weird thought to process. “I’m.. I’m so sorry. But.. but at least you’re talking to me now, right?” He asked meekly, searching Sam’s eyes again despite the room still spinning and making him woozy.

“I started.. I started making you a pie when you left for your drive. I was going to talk to you as soon as you got home. I was going to kiss you when you walked in the door. I was going to say ‘fuck it,’ Dean, and you know I don’t curse much. I was going to say that it didn’t matter, it  _ doesn’t _ matter. I don’t care if you’re my brother, as long as we go back to what we were before we found out. Lovers, partners, you know.. but you never came home. I want to be more though,” Sam whispered out, carefully taking Dean’s hand and slipping the ring off his ring finger, holding it up between them. He had left it on Dean since Dean’s birthday weeks ago, needing it to imagine that everything was okay. That they were happily engaged and that Dean was alive. 

“I proposed to you.. They didn’t know if you were going to wake up so I proposed and I put.. I put the ring on you even though I thought you were going to say no. I let myself imagine that we were married. I know you said it was too soon. On Christmas, you said it was too soon. We’ve only known each other for like eight months. But I haven’t left your side one single time since the accident, Dean, other than to get the ring. I.. I stopped eating. I can barely think without you in my life. I.. I need you.. So please, I’m begging you. I’m begging you, Dean. Marry me because I can’t live without you and.. and the nine days that we weren’t talking killed me. But these last twenty-five, these last twenty five have broken me down to my very soul, De. Just marry me, please. No one has to know you’re my brother.” 

Dean carefully took it from Sam’s fingers, slipping it back onto the finger Sam had taken it off of. Even though he had just thrown up, when Sam grabbed his face and pressed their lips together, Dean kissed back desperately, his eyes lightly shut.

When Dean kissed back, Sam felt like he was going to cry again. He had been kissing Dean constantly with no response but now, Dean’s lips were moving against his like they were supposed to and Sam felt like he could breathe for the first time in ages. He still felt like his mind had been shattered to pieces but he could breathe.  For Dean, it was the first kiss in nine days. For Sam, it was the first real kiss in thirty-four. Even if Dean wasn't anything more than a figment of his imagination, Sam was soothed by the kiss. 

When they pulled back, Dean touched the tube on Sam’s face carefully. “What is this?” He asked quietly. “The one in my nose is blowing air but what’s this on your face? Why do you have an IV in?” Dean whispered out. “I was the one in a coma, right?” 

“I stopped eating because I couldn’t eat without you around to test it and I no longer cared if I had to eat to stay alive. I collapsed.. They admitted me to the hospital too, put me on this.. this feeding tube, and IV fluids so I wouldn’t starve to death because I stopped eating,” Sam whispered out, taking Dean’s hand that now hand the ring on it again. “Like I said, Dean.. I need you to live. I wish.. I wish I was just being dramatic but I’m not.” 

“You have me,” Dean whispered out, pressing a short kiss to the corner of Sam’s lips. “And yes, Sammy. I’ll marry you,” he added, reaching to skim his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone. “I love you and I’ll marry you the second we get out of here, okay? We’ll go to city hall and we’ll sign the stupid papers and we’ll be husbands.” He didn’t know anything about what had happened these last few weeks but after the days of living without Sam being his before the crash, he would have married Sam on the spot at any point during those nine days and really, Dean didn’t know why he hadn’t agreed earlier; he knew he needed Sam in his life forever. Marriage just sealed the deal.

Sam nodded, reaching to hold both of Dean’s cheeks and surging forward to kiss him again desperately as tears started to stream down his cheeks again in happiness and relief. He knew he was still broken, more broken than he’d ever been, but he hoped that now that Dean was back, maybe the hallucinations would get better and he would start doing better. He could only hope. He pulled away after a long while, taking a deep breath. “I want to be Sam Winchester and not because John’s also my dad, okay? I want to take your last name,” he whispered out, still holding onto Dean’s cheeks.

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “I want you to be Sam Winchester, too. Both because John is your dad and because we’re married,” he murmured out quietly. “This.. is going to sound weird and maybe creepy but.. you, you being my brother it makes me happy in a way. It makes me.. want to take care of you even more than I did before. And.. and I love you even more now. I didn’t think it was possible but I do. I love you like my brother and my boyfriend.. well, fiancé.. too. I love you even more now than I did before, little brother, and I didn’t even know that was possible.” 

Something about how soft and loving the way ‘little brother’ sounded from Dean’s lips made Sam smile and he realized that Dean was right. There was something deeper between them now than there had been before because he did love Dean as his boyfriend, of course, but Dean was right, he also loved Dean as his older brother now too. There was an extra layer to their bond that he hadn’t thought about. “Little brother,” Sam repeated in a soft whisper, the concept not striking any fear into him anymore. It was okay. It would just make them stronger. “I love you, big brother.” 

Dean smiled softly at him at the words, tilting Sam’s head down to press a long kiss to the top of his head. “So we’re okay?” He whispered out quietly into Sam’s hair, Sam managing the slightest bit of a nod and a quiet, “we’re good, Dean.” 

Dean felt a sense of relief wash over him as well because while he didn’t really know much about the last twenty-five days, he had suffered immensely during the nine before the crash. Still, even with Sam back in his arms, there was a part of him wishing that the crash that he vaguely remembered had actually killed him. He still wanted to die but with how Sam had reacted to him being in a coma, not eating even, Dean wasn’t sure he could even die with a clear conscience anymore. His baby brother needed him and if for nothing else, he could live for Sam. He’d been doing it for months after all. 

Dean moved to carefully lay down with Sam close in his arms, closing his eyes. “What’s today’s date?” He asked quietly, letting out a slow sigh. 

“I don’t know,” Sam murmured out quietly. “Sometime after your birthday. Sometime at the beginning of February. Maybe the fifth? I really don’t know. All the days have faded into one long nightmare..” 

“Guess I’m twenty-three then, huh?” Dean murmured out quietly, shifting to press his forehead against Sam’s. The world was starting to swim again and he pulled away quickly, grabbing the emesis basin that the nurse had left and puking up more bile into it with a small groan, his throat burning. 

“I bought you the ring on your birthday,” Sam whispered out as he lifted Dean’s hand up to his face, looking at the ring on Dean’s finger before lacing their fingers together and using his other hand to soothingly rub Dean’s back. “It makes me so happy, Dean, that you can hold my hand back. You’ve been limp for.. for such a long time. It’s been hurting me so much.” 

Dean gave his hand a tight squeeze as he closed his eyes because he was feeling so ill and horrible that he couldn’t think clearly enough to respond. When the nurse walked in, he kept his eyes shut.

“Dean?” She asked as she saw his eyes closed and his body slack as if he were still unconscious, thinking maybe she had imagined him being awake too but when Dean opened his eyes just a little to look at her, she offered him a little smile. “The doctor told us to go get a CT and an MRI done, see how your brain is doing, okay? Sam’ll have to stay here.” 

“I’m not leaving his side, Jessica,” Sam said quietly, having gotten to know some of the night shift nurses because he was worse at night and he had had to be medicated a few times so they’d become part of his team too. “Take me with him, please. I can’t.. I just got him back and we.. we just got engaged. You can’t make me leave his side.” 

She smiled gently at him, nodding slightly. “Congratulations on the engagement. I know you’ve been waiting a while to do it. I guess I can make an exception. It’ll only be the radiologist down there because it’s so early in the morning. Sam, you won’t be able to go in the room with him but you can sit where you can see him with the radiologist, okay? And you can walk with us down there, walk with us back up. You won’t be more than.. ten, fifteen feet away at any time and he won’t be out of your sight, I promise.”

Sam nodded, whispering a, “thank you,” before pressing his face into Dean’s shoulder and letting his other hand move back over Dean’s heart, his hand still clutching Dean’s. “I can’t leave his side. Not again. I made that mistake once and it landed us here, letting him get away.” 

Dean glanced over at Sam, hating how absolutely broken Sam’s voice was. Something in him really was clicking though. Sam really had stayed, he really had cared that Dean had been close to death. That Dean had  _ died _ apparently, at least, his heart had stopped. For a second, he was glad he had woken up because if this was how upset Sam was when he was awake, he couldn’t imagine how much pain he’d caused his brother while he wasn’t. “I’m not leaving you again, Sammy. I’ve promised you a thousand times I wouldn’t leave you.” 

_ “You’re a horrible boyfriend for doubting him. Thinking he lied to you about promising not to leave.” _

“I thought you had broken those promises,” Sam whispered out meekly, hoping Dean wouldn’t be upset because Sam had doubted him. “I thought you had broken them.. I’m sorry.”

“No.. No, it’s okay, kiddo,” Dean murmured out softly, feeling more bile rise up and he leaned over, throwing up in the basin once again. “Fuck, I feel like crap.” 

“Sam, we’re going to take him down right now, okay? Take your IV pole and let’s go down. Can you walk?” Jessica asked calmly, grabbing the black-red plaid blanket off the chair in the room and draping it over Sam’s shoulders. 

Sam nodded and got up before they headed out of the room and downstairs to the imaging center. As promised, Dean got to stay within Sam’s line of sight but even just being ten feet away from his brother and separated by a piece of glass, sent Sam’s auditory and visual hallucinations skyrocketing in severity and he curled up on the floor next to the radiologist, confusing the hell out of the radiologist who only spoke up when the scans were done about an hour later. 

Sam managed to focus enough on the person’s words to force himself up from the ground and when Dean was rolled out of the room, he practically collapsed on the bed beside his boyfriend as Dean put his rings and necklace back on, Sam’s whole body trembling. 

Dean glanced at the nurse with a small frown. “He said your name was.. Jessica? Is it okay..uhm.. Can he stay laying with me? He’s in bad shape.. Really bad. I’ve never seen him so bad and I’ve seen him at his worst so this is.. this is worse than his worst.” 

“I have to respectfully disagree and tell you that he’s been worse these last twenty-five days than he is right now and you should probably know that but yes, he can stay with you,” Jessica said calmly as she watched Sam curl up against Dean, clinging to him like he was going to disappear any second. 

Dean nodded, adjusting them so he was on his side and carefully wrapping his arms around Sam. His joints were stiff and he was in a lot of pain in his abdominal region and his head hurt like hell but all he could focus on right now was Sam. “Sammy, kiddo, are you with me right now?”

_ “He’s not real. You’ve just finally gone completely insane, Sam.” _

Sam shook his head, clinging tighter to Dean as his trembling mixed with shaking sobs, everything feeling like it was real and fake all at the same time. He felt like he was drowning in the voices, in the emotions. “You’re not real,” he breathed out finally because they had talked, yes, but Dean couldn’t be real. He had just finally cracked and gone completely off the deep end. He knew it. That’s what it had to be. Dean wasn’t awake and this was a hallucination.    
  
“Hey, no,” Dean whispered out softly, pushing his fingers through Sam’s hair and holding him tighter to his body. “I’m real. Focus on the pressure from my arms and the feeling of my chest vibrating as I talk. Focus on my heartbeat, Sammy. I’m real and I’m here with you.” 

_ “He’s not real. Maybe he never has been. He’s always been a figment of your imagination, Sam.” _

“No. No, no. No,” Sam gasped out, clinging to Dean even tighter as he sobbed, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

“Yes, Sammy. Yes, I’m real. I’m here with you,” Dean whispered out, his grip tightening around his little brother. “I’m right here with you,” he murmured out softly in Sam’s ear but Sam seemed to be crashing still and so he decided to do something he hadn’t tried before to calm Sam down. He started to sing. “Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better, remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better..” He began, his voice soft and beautiful in Sam’s ear despite his sore throat. 

Dean had to cycle through the song four times before Sam finally managed to focus in on Dean, on Dean’s voice and his fingers curled into the front of Dean’s shirt. “You’re real,” Sam whispered out quietly though his voice was shaking because he honestly wasn’t sure anymore. He didn’t feel sure about anything anymore. He hadn’t been sure about anything for weeks.

“I’m real,” Dean confirmed softly, glancing up at Jessica before looking back to Sam. “I’ve got you, baby brother,” he whispered in Sam’s ear, quiet enough that only Sam could hear. “I’m here.” 

Sam nodded somewhat frantically, clinging to his brother’s shirt and pressing his face into Dean’s chest as he tried to calm himself but he couldn’t, feeling like his whole world was shattering. Dean wasn’t real. Dean wasn’t real. He tried so hard to fight what the voices were saying, fight those thoughts. 

“I’ve got you, baby brother,” Dean murmured out in his ear as he clutched Sam tighter to his chest. “I’m here and we’re going to get married and we’re going to be happy, I promise. We’re going to get married and we’re going to be happy. It’s hard; it’s hard to be happy but we’re going to work at it and we’re going to be happy. Sammy, baby, have you gone to therapy since I’ve been out? Have you spoke to Dr. Masters since this happened?”   
  
“No. I haven’t left your side, Dean. I haven’t moved from your side except to buy your ring and that was it. I’ve barely even showered, De.. I.. I can’t even eat, do you really think.. I was going to be able to drive myself to therapy?” 

“No. No, I didn’t think you’d be able to but when we get out of here, kiddo, we’re going to take you to therapy every day that she can fit you in. We’ll get you better. We’ll get you better again. Everything will be just fine. I’m okay and.. and you’re going to be okay too.” 

When they were back in the room, the nurse told Dean not to go back to sleep yet but that she could close the door to give them some privacy and Dean nodded, figuring they’d need that. He would need that, Sam would need that. A moment alone. 

Jessica gave him a sip of mouthwash and let him spit it into the basin before cleaning it out and leaving it on the bedside table again in case Dean needed it. She offered them a gentle smile before she left the room and shut the door behind herself to leave them alone.

“I’ve got you,” Dean murmured out as he adjusted them so Sam’s head was on his chest, over his heart. “Listen to my heartbeat, sweetheart,” he whispered out, soothingly running his fingers through his brother’s hair and closing his eyes. “Focus on my heartbeat.”

_ “He’s not real.” _

Sam nodded as he took Dean’s hand up, rubbing his fingers over the engagement ring and focusing on the feeling of the engraved trees, trying so hard not to break all over again. If it wasn’t real, he decided, then it didn’t matter because he would live in his head for the rest of his life if it meant this, if it meant he had Dean again. Even if it wasn’t real, he’d accept that. 


	21. Not Real

Dean carefully stroked through Sam’s hair as he held his baby brother close to his body, eventually starting to hum Smoke on the Water to him until he felt Sam go limp, asleep in his arms. Only then did he speak, his voice sad but soft. “I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to get in the accident. That’s why it’s called an accident, right? It wasn’t an attempt. I promised I wouldn’t leave you; I never intended to break that promise no matter how much I was hurting, which, if I’m being one hundred percent honest with you, I was hurting more than I ever have. Enough that I did think about breaking my promise a thousand times over. But.. I wasn’t going to act on it. I’m sorry still, I am. I love you, Sammy. It doesn’t scare me as much anymore to tell you now because whatever we have between us - love, family, whatever it is - we’ve got each other,” he whispered out as he let out a low, slow sigh, the room starting to spin around him. He felt that nausea again and he turned to his side to throw up in the emesis basin again with a small groan. He set it aside, letting out another slow breath. 

“I.. I don’t want to die right now,” Dean said after a long, long moment of silence. “I haven’t felt that way in a really really long time, baby brother. I haven’t felt this way in a really long time. I’m still.. sad, empty, but you, Sammy, seeing you like this.. You needed a feeding tube, fuck. You really couldn’t eat without me? You.. you’ve been struggling so much and I wasn’t even dead. I never want to make you feel like this again. It makes me really want to stay alive for you. I don’t want to live, not really, but I never want you to feel this way ever again and if that means living until you die, I’ll live. I’ll live for you, Sam Winchester. God, I feel like I broke you.” He shook his head, wiping his mouth before he pressed his face into Sam’s hair, taking a deep breath through his nose. Sam Winchester.. It sounded right like it was meant to be behind Sam’s name.

“I think we should get you a dog. You love dogs. They always make you smile. I don’t want a pet but.. but maybe a dog would help you. Make you happy again. Maybe a service dog for head problems, those are a thing, right? The dog could be trained to help you,” Dean whispered out as he hugged Sam closer to his body, pushing down the nausea as best he could because he really really didn’t want to throw up again. “I think I’ll get you a dog. Maybe it’ll be an engagement present,” he added before he looked at the ring on his finger; Sam had dropped his hand when he fell asleep. “Engaged, huh? Last year around my birthday, I thought I wouldn’t live to 23. And now, here I am, alive and.. and engaged to my  _ brother _ who I didn’t even know existed and you know what, I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he whispered out as he smiled down at his baby brother. “I’m going to do everything for you, with you from now on. We never.. We’ve never gotten to go on a real date so we’ll do that. We’ll get you a dog. We’ll.. we’ll get married. I’ll sing to you after we sign the marriage papers, play guitar and everything like I promised I would do eventually. I think we’ll be okay.”   
  
There was a knock on the door and then the nurse from earlier, Jessica, walked in, offering Dean a gentle smile. “I’m not the doctor but I can relay what he told me. You have some damage to your medulla oblongata in your brain, specifically in the chemoreceptor trigger zone, that may be why you’ve been throwing up so much since you woke up and even once while you were actually in your coma. But other than that, your concussion is in its final stages and you’re alright. You’re allowed to sleep if you’re able to.” 

“Why.. uh, why does my stomach hurt so much?” Dean asked quietly, continuing to stroke Sam’s hair soothingly, hoping he wouldn’t wake up while they talked. He didn’t care about the pain, more the fact that if something was wrong, he wanted it fixed so he wouldn’t do this to Sam again. “And my back on one side is really bad..”   
  
“Your back on one side?” The nurse asked with a bit of concern, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Do you think you can roll a little bit over onto your side so I can feel around and you can tell me where it hurts?” 

Dean shifted so he was tilted enough for her to touch him on his lower back. He was still careful not to jostle Sam though, keeping Sam held securely. When she pressed in a particular spot, Dean mumbled a “there,” and she nodded, helping him lay back again and grabbing a graduated container, draining Dean’s catheter bag into it and frowning a little bit when she did.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked quietly, continuing to stroke Sam’s hair, hoping that the touch would keep some nightmares away and that Sam would sleep soundly. 

“Yeah. Let me see about getting you some painkillers for any pain you might be having and I’ll also see about some Zofran for the nausea. Sound okay?” Jessica asked gently, Dean shrugging and nodding as she noted his urine output in his chart and the cleaned up a little bit before leaving the room. 

When she was gone, Dean frowned down at Sam. “I think she was lying about everything being okay. I hope she wasn’t. I hope they can also take this stupid tube out of my dick sometime soon. It feels weird,” he said quietly with a half laugh, adjusting himself and then reaching for the bed’s remote to lower the head of the bed. 

When they were lying flat, he carefully adjusted Sam so Sam had his head on Dean’s chest over his heart. The jostling didn’t wake Sam which proved to Dean that Sam had been more than exhausted. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow sigh and hating the fact that his eyes were starting to water. He wiped them quickly before he could start crying but god, he felt so guilty about the faint thought in his head that it would’ve been good if he had died because that would be wishing this on Sam and he couldn’t do that. “Goodnight, kiddo. I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.”

Despite having been unconscious for twenty-five days, Dean felt drained and so for once, with Sam pressed close, he fell asleep pretty quickly for him, within about an hour. One of his hands was still curled in Sam’s hair and the other was resting on Sam’s shoulder blade, his breathing steady and calm even with the oxygen tickling his nose.

* * *

Sam woke up around six am and seeing Dean there, looking as he had when he was unconscious, made his heart sink in his chest. It had been in his head. The thought made him start to feel like he was going to be sick and so he quickly got out of bed, disconnected his tube and rushing to the bathroom to throw up the feeding tube formula along with stomach acid as tears began to stream down his cheeks. 

_ “I told you it would only be me that would stay with you forever, didn’t I?” _ Lucifer asked as he sat down crisscrossed on the ground, placing a burning hot hand on Sam’s back which Sam leaned into instead of pulling away from because Lucifer was right, he was the only person Sam had that hadn’t left. 

Sam getting out of bed had woken Dean up and then the sound of vomiting had made him fully aware of his surroundings so he carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed before remembering the massive cast and sighing. “Sammy, kiddo?” He asked, glancing around the room and frowning because he had no way of getting to Sam. “Are you okay?” He reached up to the wall, hitting what he assumed was the call light, a small frown on his lips. 

_ “He’s not real, remember?”  _

Sam choked on another sob, nodding his agreement to Lucifer as he wiped off his mouth on a square of toilet paper and pushed the tube in his nose down a little bit better than it had been. “I know.” 

“I asked if you were okay, Sam. What do you know?” 

“You’re not real. Leave me al-..” A sob cut Sam off and he ducked his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. 

Dean gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath. God, it hurt hearing Sam talk like this. “Kiddo, I’m real. Come here, please.. Come feel me, come kiss me, come prove it to yourself. I’m real, baby brother. I’m real, please..” He knew he sounded desperate and if it were anyone else other than Sam he would’ve been embarrassed but right now, he couldn’t care less. “I’m begging you, Sammy. Come here..”

“You’re not real. Leave me alone!” Sam sobbed out, curling in on himself and sucking in a sharp breath because he felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Dean sounded so real that maybe he was but he didn’t want to hope for the best anymore. 

When the nurse, not Jessica, a different one, walked in and when she saw Dean on the edge of the bed, she quickly walked over. “Dean, you are a fall risk. And if you fall, your catheter is going to pull out and it will be extremely painful. Let’s get your legs back into bed.”

“Don’t touch me. Can I have a wheelchair or something? I need to get to the bathroom,” Dean said quietly, glancing up at her and trying his damnedest to look at her with something close to the puppy dog eyes Sam would give him. “Please.. I’m.. I need to get in there.” 

“Uhm, alright,” she said quietly, frowning a little bit. “I shouldn’t be doing this but I’ll get a wheelchair and a transfer board so you can get yourself into it without a mechanical lift.” She walked out, returning about a minute later which felt like pure torture for Dean, hearing his boyfriend sobbing so close but out of sight and out of reach. She set it up and helped him get onto the board before helping him into the wheelchair and getting his collection bag for his catheter in the back pouch and taking off his oxygen because his stats were good enough for the time being. 

Dean flashed her as much of a smile as he could muster, which wasn’t much. “That’s it. Thanks. Please.. uh, please close the door,” he said as he watched her leave and close the door behind herself. He rolled into the small bathroom, stopping the wheelchair by Sam and locking one of the brakes so he wouldn’t roll. “Sam Winchester. Look at me,” he murmured out, ‘Winchester’ feeling more than natural behind Sam’s name to the point where he didn’t even have to think about it.

“You’re not real,” Sam choked out, turning his head away so he couldn’t see Dean. “You’re not Dean. You’re not my brother. You’re not my boyfriend. You aren’t real.” 

“Sammy, baby, look at me,” Dean murmured out softly, scooting forward to the edge of the wheelchair and reaching out to carefully cup Sam’s jaw, turning Sam’s head so he was forced to be facing in Dean’s direction. It didn’t mean that Sam wasn’t still averting his eyes though. “I’m real and I’m here with you. Come on. Get on my lap, okay? You can’t float in mid-air if I’m not real, right? So come on, get up here.” 

Sam hesitantly let himself look up at Dean from where he was on the floor, another shaky sob escaping him because he felt like he was going to break any second now. His bottom lip was genuinely quivering as he tried to keep himself from crying more and his hand moved up to grip onto Dean’s wrist and push Dean’s hand off his face. “I have tactile hallucinations. You’re one of the-m,” he croaked out, more of a wreck than he had ever been. “I have visual hallucinations. I have auditory hallucinations. I have  _ tactile _ hallucinations. That’s what you are. You’re not real. You’re not my Dean. You’re not my Dean. You’re not mine. You’re in my head. I made you up because he’s dying. Maybe he’s already dead and I’ve just finally lost it.” 

“No, Sammy. No,” Dean whispered out, rubbing his hands over his own face and letting out a shaky breath. He was damn near crying right now and to bring him to tears was not easy. “Sammy,  _ please,”  _ he begged out, a couple of tears managing to slip down his cheeks and he didn’t bother wiping them. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, turning his head so his chin was pressed against his shoulder as he tried to stop the tears. He was in pain from his injuries but this was hurting him more than anything physical ever could; this was the worst pain he had ever felt.

_ “He’s not real. Don’t listen to him.” _

“I know,” Sam responded quietly but despite himself, he very carefully pushed himself off the floor and moved to settle himself in Dean’s lap, curling up against him. “I know you’re not real but I don’t care anymore.. I can live with that.. I can live with you being in my head,” he whispered out shakily as he wrapped his arms around Dean, Dean carefully wrapping his arms around Sam as well.

Dean had been wrong.  _ This _ hurt more than anything he’d ever had to deal with before. Sam thinking he wasn’t real and just accepting that. Not believing him, just accepting comfort in what Sam thought wasn’t real. “I’ve got you,” he whispered out, pressing his face into Sam’s shoulder as Sam was doing too. He didn’t know what else to say for once. He just stayed quiet, holding all 6’4 of his baby brother in his arms, small sobs starting to shake through him because he didn’t know what to do anymore. He didn’t want Sam thinking that he wasn’t real and just  _ accepting _ that. It was worse than Sam thinking he wasn’t real and rejecting him in some ways. And so he just let himself openly cry for the first time since he was a child, his whole body eventually starting to tremble as he clung to his little brother. “I’ve got you,” he whispered out through it all because Sam was still crying against him too and for a moment, Dean wondered when it had gone so downhill for Sam. All he knew was that he had to fix it, even if it took the rest of their lives. He would put Sam back together, piece by piece if he had to. 

“We share a heaven. Dean and I share a Heaven, you know that? ‘Cause that’s what soulmates do. So if he’s dead and I’m crazy.. I hope he’s waiting for me up in Heaven. Maybe things won’t be so bad up there. Maybe I should kill myself, join him earlier,” Sam whispered out, trailing his fingers slowly up and down Dean’s chest, trying to find some form of discontinuity to prove to himself that this wasn’t Dean. “I think I’d be better at dying than he is..”

“Sam, don’t you dare talk like that,” Dean breathed out shakily as he hugged Sam tighter to his chest, holding him as close as he possibly could with limited strength. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me. I’m the suicidal one, remember?” He asked breathlessly with a broken, wet laugh, trying to force himself not to break right now because he felt so guilty. He had done this to Sam. He should never have driven when he was in so much emotional pain; he should have known he’d dissociate. He shouldn’t have done this to Sam. 

“I love you,” Sam whispered out as he carefully slid his hand up Dean’s chest and then down his arm so he could be holding Dean’s arm, his fingers trailing over the raised scars on Dean’s arms. “I just don’t want to live anymore, Dean.. Not without you.” 

“I’m right here, Sam,” Dean breathed out, all of his emotional wall crashing down as he tried so hard to keep himself from crying more but he couldn’t do it anymore. He wasn’t strong enough and so he started to cry harder, to the point where he was gasping a bit. “I’m right here. I’m going to marry you, Sammy. We’re going to grow old together, Sam, okay? We’re going get old and wrinkly and still be so fucking in love that it hurts.” 

“My Dean doesn’t want to grow old. I don’t want to grow old anymore either,” Sam whispered out quietly. “I’m so tired, Dean.. I’m so tired. I just want it to be over.” 

“I am your Dean.. I am. And you’re only eighteen, Sam. Stop talking like that. You die and I die with you,” Dean choked out, moving both of his hands to Sam’s cheeks and gripping them tightly so they were forced to look at each other. They both looked like crap; Dean was crying and had snot coming out of his nose and Sam was in no better shape. “I. Need. You. I need you, you son of a  _ bi-tch _ ,” he sobbed out, pressing his mouth to Sam’s firmly even though they had both been throwing up recently which was kind of gross. 

Sam didn’t kiss back, keeping his eyes open for a long moment before he finally gave in. If it wasn’t real, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He had Dean. Even if it wasn’t the real, that would be okay. This Dean seemed to love him too unlike some of the Dean’s he’d seen and it didn’t hurt when they touched like Lucifer’s touch felt or like the other Deans he hallucinated had felt. This Dean felt warm and safe. That was what made him feel so real. He kissed back slowly, carefully, his hands carefully moving to Dean’s cheeks. When he pulled back, he let out a shaky breath. “Promise me you’re real?” He asked quietly, knowing he wouldn’t believe Dean fully even with a promise. 

“Sam. I’m real. I swear on your life, remember? Do you remember why I do that? Why I swear on your life?” Dean whispered out as he reached up to catch Sam’s hand, pressing it flatly against his cheek.

“Because you care about me more than you care about yourself,” Sam whispered out quietly, moving to pull his sleeve over his hand so he could wipe his nose and then Dean’s. “Tell me something about you, Dean, that I don’t already know.”

“Uhm.. I.. You know almost everything about me, baby brother. Uh.. I guess.. This is going to sound bad but this necklace,” Dean said quietly, reaching up to touch his amulet. “It means more to me than an engagement ring ever could.” 

Sam smiled weakly through his tears, nodding. “I could have guessed that.” He reached to play with Dean’s amulet for a few seconds before he used the cord to draw Dean into another kiss. “Sex always helps me know what’s real,” he whispered out when he pulled away. “I know it’s not healthy but you do it too.. Sex to cope with everything, right? So I should be allowed to do it too. I know we can’t have sex here in the hospital but when they let you go home, we’re going to have sex and I’m going to.. to touch and kiss every single inch of your skin and we’re going to have sex and I’m gonna make sure you’re real, okay?” It felt right, Dean felt right, holding him, but he needed to make sure and he couldn’t think of any other way to that. Sam leaned down to press a short kiss to Dean’s lips, praying to God once again if he was listening that this was real because Sam was one hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t be able to live through learning that Dean wasn’t real. “Every inch of you, okay? Scars too but not because they’re scars but because I need to touch you. I need to touch you in a way I could never make up in my head. If you’re real, if you’re really real, then everything should be just fine.” 

“You can do anything you want to me when we get out of here. Anything,” Dean said calmly, adjusting them so he could stroke Sam’s hair. Sex didn’t really sound like a bad idea, even with the brother part of their relationship now. It didn’t matter that they shared blood; they loved each other beyond that bond. They loved each other more than anything else, sex, being intimate, that wasn’t going away even with their shared blood. “You need to take a shower and then I want you to come back to the bed. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Sam whispered out, closing his eyes and letting himself  _ finally _ relax against his brother’s chest, his fingers going back to playing with Dean’s amulet. “Not yet though. Not yet. And when I do, please stay here in the bathroom with me.” 

“Of course,” Dean whispered out, closing his eyes as well and just holding Sam close to his chest. It didn’t happen though because neither of them knew when they drifted to sleep but they did, Sam on Dean’s lap, Dean in a wheelchair in a tiny hospital bathroom, tears streaking their cheeks, and their bodies touching in as many places as possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really want to be sad, you can imagine everything from here on out is just in Sam's head. It isn't from my POV as the writer but you can make yourself even sadder if you want to.


	22. Blood Be Damned

Dean woke up to the chair moving and his first instinct was to hold Sam closer to his body so that Sam wouldn’t fall off before he looked up to see who the fuck was moving the wheelchair. He relaxed when he saw it was Bobby, offering him an apologetic smile. “Hey.. They called you?” 

“I’m your contact, Dean,” Bobby said as he settled the chair by the bed before carefully lifting Sam up and off of Dean to lay him down on the bed. Sam didn’t wake up as he was moved because he was so drained and exhausted that he was out like a light. When Sam was laid down and covered up with a blanket, Bobby pulled a chair up close to the wheelchair, sitting down and carefully pulling Dean into a hug. “Kid, you had us scared to death.”

Dean let out a small sigh before he wrapped his arms around Bobby, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said calmly, pulling back from the hug and pushing his fingers through his too-long hair. “I didn’t.. Sam thinks it was a suicide attempt. I didn’t.. I didn’t try to kill myself. I was in bad shape, Bobby. Really bad shape, but I didn’t try to kill myself for once. I made Sam a promise ages ago, telling him I wouldn’t leave him and I didn’t plan on breaking that promise. In hindsight, I.. I shouldn’t have been driving when I was in such a bad place but I’m okay now,” he said quietly, a wave of nausea hitting him. He pushed it down as best as he could; however, it wasn’t effective as he had to grab the basin, throwing up stomach acid into it, and clearing his throat before repeating himself. “I’m okay now.” 

“Awake is good enough. It doesn’t matter anymore. It happened and now, it’s over,” Bobby said calmly, rubbing his hands over his face. “Thank God it’s over now. Sam’s been losing it. I’m surprised he’s still.. mostly mentally here.”

“He’s not,” Dean said quietly, glancing back to the bed behind him. “Has he been taking his medications? He said he wasn’t going to therapy but has he been taking his meds? Because he.. he’s not sure I’m real and.. and he’s broken so badly that he doesn’t even care that I’m not real. He’s accepting me even though he thinks I’m not real.”  

“He hasn’t been taking them, consistently at least. They’re in his bag with his clothes. He hasn’t even been taking his Benztropine either for his shakiness that comes with the other meds and that’s not even a strong medication.” 

“So no Fluphenazine, no Risperidone.. No antipsychotics at all?  _ And _ no Benztropine? Fuck, Bobby, no wonder he’s a walking disaster,” Dean said quietly, taking a deep breath and reaching over to the bed to hold onto Sam’s hand. “How about his Prozac?” 

“Nothing, kid. He refuses all of it. I’ve tried a hundred times. Says it’s poisoned and that he doesn’t trust any of us to be telling the truth when we tell him that it’s not. Not me, not the nurses, not the doctors. No one. They wanted to have him put back in the psych ward but I spoke to his mother, transferred his power of attorney to me just like I’m yours because he wasn’t found to be sound of mind enough to refuse being admitted and his mother didn’t seem to want to make any decisions for him. I made sure they didn’t put him back there ‘cause he’s broken down having to take a damn shower ten feet away from you; I can’t even imagine the fall out if we’d had him committed again at a facility miles away.”

“Back it up, you said you spoke to his mother? Did she say anything to you?” Dean asked with immediate concern. What if Bobby found out they were brothers? They were fucked if he did. “Anything about Sam and I?”

“Just that she didn’t approve of your relationship and that’s why she didn’t want to be a part of Sam’s life anymore. Which is fuckin’ stupid if you ask me. If she wants to disown her son for fallin’ for you, Dean, then that’s on her. You’ve been better to her boy than she seems to have ever been. She should be lucky you fell for her kid.” 

Dean nodded, figuring then that no, Bobby didn’t know. And he never would, if Dean had anything to do with it. “Thank you,” he murmured out after a long moment of silence. “For.. I don’t know, everything. Taking care of Sam while I wasn’t able to.. to the best of your ability, obviously. It’ll be hard but I’m going to get him back to where he was before all of this bullshit happened. I need to.” 

“You need to take care of yourself, too, kid. We all thought it was a suicide attempt which just shows your track record,” Bobby said as he took Dean’s arm, flipping it underside-up where all of Dean’s scars were. “And this shit, hurting yourself, it needs to stop. You need to make an effort to stop doing it. It hurts Sam more than it could possibly hurt you.” 

Dean took his arm away carefully, picking up the blanket Sam had brought from home and wrapping it around himself so Bobby could no longer see his arms. “I.. I know, I know. When I was in the facility I stopped. I didn’t have a choice but I did it and I think.. I think I can do it again. I need to start getting better, Bobby. I get that now. Even if it means meds and therapy and all that crap. I need to get better so I can take care of Sammy.” 

“You’re a good kid, Dean. I wish you’d told me about all this shit years ago. I would’ve taken you in. We would’ve gotten you in therapy, started fixing you up ages ago.” 

“I wasn’t ready,” Dean said quietly, glancing at Bobby with a sad frown. “I wasn’t ready back then. I wasn’t even ready like two months ago. I wasn’t ready to get better. I am now. I have a reason to get better now. I’m ready to get better. I’m ready to not want to die.”

Bobby nodded, taking his hat off and setting it down on the edge of the bed as he leaned back in his seat. “I don’t know how the hell to fix your boyfriend, kid. He’s.. He was good when you two lived with me. How do we get him back to that point?” 

“He’s never been good, not really. Even when we lived with you he was.. delusional and a wreck. But yeah, if we could get back to that point, that would be.. good, amazing. I don’t know if we’re ever going to get him back there though, Bobby.”

“Do you have any ideas on starting the process?” Bobby asked as he looked over at Sam who was now moving in his sleep to hug one of the flat hospital pillows. “Anything?” 

“His meds. Higher doses of them. Keeping the feeding tube in but trying to get him to eat orally too until we know he’s eating enough that it can come out? I don’t want him to get malnourished. I think.. Well, there are organizations, charities, that train dogs to help people who are really sick in the head like he is. Service dogs, psychiatric service dogs, maybe we can see if we can get one for him. He loves dogs. It could be a comfort and it could help him. I was looking into them before the crash even happened and.. and they can do things like be trained to bark at someone so Sam knows that person is real and if they don’t bark, no one is actually there, and they can be trained to alert to panic attacks.. I don’t want a dog but god, if it helps Sam, I’ll get thirty of them.”

“We’ll start with the meds, the eating, and I’ll reach out to some organizations that do that and even if we have to pay for the damn dog, we will if it will help,” Bobby said seriously, looking back to Sam who was starting to thrash beside them, clearly having a nightmare or terror. “Wake him up.” 

Dean nodded. “Can you help me get onto the bed? This stupid broken leg is screwing with me,” he said quietly. Bobby nodded and stood up, pulling Dean up onto his one good leg and helping him get onto the bed. Dean grabbed the catheter drainage bag from the back of the wheelchair, hooking it onto the bed and noting that it was almost empty. He should probably drink something. Oh, and talk them into taking the stupid tube out of his damn dick. “Thanks.” 

“Sammy,” Dean said as he adjusted himself on the bed, carefully grabbing the front of Sam’s shirt and manhandling him so Sam was sitting up in front of him, effectively waking him up. “Hey. Kiddo, look at me.” 

“Dean,” Sam gasped out, reflexively reaching to grab Dean’s shirt in the same way Dean was holding his, each hand at the junction where chest and shoulder met. He blinked a few times, trying to focus in on Dean but his attention was drawn back behind Dean and onto Lucifer, his body trembling as it had been so often since the accident. 

“Sammy,  _ at _ me. Not behind me,” Dean said as he moved his hands to Sam’s face and forced their faces to be close together so Sam couldn’t look around him. “I’m here. Look at me. Bobby’s here too.”

_ “He’s not real. Bobby thinks you’re nuts, talking to yourself.” _

“Bobby,” Sam repeated slowly, turning his head to look at Bobby despite the resistance from Dean’s hands. “Do you see Dean too?” 

“He’s awake, Sam. It’s not in your head,” Bobby said quietly as he got up and grabbed Sam’s pill bottles from his bag, tossing them onto the bed. “Dean, try to get him to take at least his Prozac or something.”

Dean nodded, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to go from no meds for a month to Sam’s very high dose of meds right off the bat but maybe Sam wouldn’t have any side effects? Plus it was the wrong time for almost all of them which didn’t help and Sam had been disconnected from the feeds for a while so his stomach was empty. Hopefully, nothing bad would happen. He shook out one of each of the four pills, grabbing his little cup of water from the bedside table and placing his other hand on Sam’s cheek. “Hey, kiddo, focus on me, okay? When I tell you to swallow, swallow,” he murmured out before he reached up to use his thumb to draw Sam’s mouth open, placing the pills into it and raising the water to his lips, tipping some into his mouth. “Swallow, Sammy.”

Instead of swallowing, Sam let the water dribble down his chin and he spit the pills out into Dean’s hand. “They’re not safe,” he whispered out, sounding like a scared child which broke Dean’s heart. 

“They are safe. They are. I promise,” Dean said as he smoothed Sam’s hair back with the hand that Sam hadn’t drooled and spit up pills into. “They’re safe. They go through tons of testing to make sure they’re safe for you to take.” 

_ “He’s not real. They’re not safe. It’s all a lie.” _

“You take them first,” Sam whispered out, searching Dean’s eyes. “Show me they’re safe.”

“I can’t. They’re antipsychotics, kiddo. I can’t take them,” Dean said quietly, smoothing Sam’s hair back again and tipping Sam’s head down to press a short kiss to his temple. “I can’t.”

“Please, Dean.” Maybe he should just take them. If they were poisoned, he’d die and he’d get to join Dean in Heaven because if he was right about the fact that he was just suffering a psychotic break, Dean was already dead. It felt like that right now. “Please.”

Dean licked his lips to wet them, nodding and taking out one of the Prozac because it wasn’t an antipsychotic and hopefully, it wouldn’t have a negative effect on him. He made sure Sam was watching him as he placed it in his mouth, swallowing it with a sip of water. “Not poisoned, see?” 

Sam let his eyes search over Dean’s freckles and then he looked back to his brother’s eyes, opening his mouth a little bit without being forced to. When Dean smiled brightly at him in a way that Sam had barely ever seen, Sam smiled back a little, letting Dean place the pills he’d spit out back in his mouth and swallowing them when Dean gave him some water. He coughed once they went down because all four had to pass by the tube that was going down his throat. “Was that okay, big brother?” He asked quietly, needing some sort of reassurance at the moment as he clutched Dean’s shirt tighter. He felt like a little kid at the moment, a screwed-up little kid but a little kid nonetheless and he kind of just wanted to be held and comforted for a little while. 

“That was perfect, Sam.  _ Perfect _ ,” Dean whispered out, not even realizing that Sam had called him his brother with Bobby a few feet away. It felt natural referring to each other as such already. “You did great. I’m so proud of you,” he murmured out with his voice filled with honesty and pride. He knew it was hard for Sam to take things when Sam was delusional about their desired effect so it was amazing that Sam had managed. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Sam smiled weakly back at his brother, letting his head drop so his forehead was resting against Dean’s shoulder as Dean wiped off Sam’s chin with his hand and then the spit off his hand onto his thigh that wasn’t in the cast. “I really hope you’re real, Dean,” Sam said quietly, slipping his hand up under Dean’s shirt and carefully starting to trail his fingers up and down Dean’s chest. “I don’t know if I can live anymore if you turn out to not be real like all the other yous I’ve seen. You’re the most real out of all of the ones I’ve seen though. No discontinuity errors that my brain is making up. And there were two of you then. There was the you that was asleep and the you that wasn’t.”  

“That’s because I am real, kiddo. And we’re going to get you better. We’re going to go home soon and we’re going to get you all better again,” Dean reassured softly, adjusting Sam so he was hugged close to his body. “There’s nothing off about me because I am me.”

Sam nodded, letting his head rest against Dean’s shoulder as he shut his eyes, taking comfort in Dean whether he was real or not. Part of him hoped that the pills Dean had just talked him into taking were poisoned because he didn’t want to deal with this anymore. The fear that this wasn’t his brother, the pain in his stomach, the pain that came from Lucifer’s touch. He didn’t want to deal with any of it anymore. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” Dean said calmly, stroking Sam’s hair soothingly. “Just relax. Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Sam nodded, figuring he wouldn’t sleep but still letting himself relax against Dean’s warm body. He fell silent, exhausted but not wanting to sleep just in case Dean would be gone when he woke again. 

After a few minutes of dead silence in the room, Bobby spoke up. “He called you ‘big brother.’” 

“He did what?” Dean asked, a small frown on his lips as he held Sam a little tighter to his chest. “Oh.. Uh, yeah. He did. It’s a.. He just slipped up. He doesn’t have any siblings.” 

“You don’t slip up in that way. That’s not an ‘accidentally calling a teacher ‘mom’’ kind of slip up. What did he mean, Dean?” Bobby asked seriously. “You don’t have any brothers and Mary Campbell doesn’t have any other sons.”

“He.. uh, Bobby, it was a mistake,” Dean said again, holding Sam tighter to his body in an almost protective way as if Sam was going to be stolen away from him. “It was a mistake; that’s it.”

“How ‘bout you stop lyin’ to me, Dean?” Bobby said flatly, glancing down at Sam and then looking back to Dean. “Why did he call you ‘big brother?’ Is Sam your brother?” 

Dean swallowed hard, leaning his head against Sam’s and letting his gaze drop to the ground. “Bobby, we didn’t know.. We didn’t know. That’s why I was so bad.. That’s why this crash happened. Mary.. She slept with John and got herself knocked up.. Sam’s.. He’s.. It doesn’t matter though because I need him. I need him and I don’t care if you disown us like Mary did because Bobby, I need him a hell of a lot more than I need you.” He knew it sounded harsh, really fucking harsh but that was the way it was. He would choose Sam over anyone and he was certain of that. 

“He’s your brother,” Bobby muttered out, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Like you idjits aren’t screwed up enough as it is, you share your damn blood.” His tone wasn’t malicious, more frustrated than anything because these were his boys and they really couldn’t have anything going for them? Nothing?

“Bobby, I do not-..  _ we _ do not care if you don’t approve of it because we learned it from Mary over a week before the accident and you know what, it’s the reason the accident happened. It’s the reason I was worse than normal; it’s part of the reason Sam is so broken right now. We need each other, blood be damned. He’s my family; I choose him over you. So if you’re going to be a dick, leave.”

“Family don’t end with blood, boy. It doesn’t start there either. I don’t give a rat’s ass that he’s your brother. I’m your family too and you don’t get to choose between the two of us,” Bobby said flatly, putting his cap back on. “You’re my family, kid. He’s become my family, too. I’m not disowning you. Mary may not know how much you boys need each other but I’ve seen it and I’ve seen him through this, through you being sick. I’ve seen how broken he is without your sorry ass and I’ve seen how much you would do for him.”

“I’d sell my soul if it meant he was happy and healthy,” Dean confirmed quietly, rubbing up and down Sam’s back slowly. “I would watch the goddamn world burn to keep him safe, Bobby. I am _living_ for him and that is the hardest thing I have done in my entire life.” 

“Dean, kid, stop defending yourself. I’m not upset with you. Upset, yes, but with you, no. Calm down. The two of you are a set, anyone can see that. It’s not healthy by any means but I’m not messing with it. I’d be an idiot if I split you two up.” 

“You wouldn’t be able to split us up,” Dean said seriously, taking a few shaky breaths in. “I’m going to marry him. I choose him, Bobby. End of story. If you ever make me choose between you and him, I’ll choose him every single time.” 

“I’m not making you choose, Dean. Calm down before you start to have a damn panic attack,” Bobby said seriously, standing up and moving to lean against the window, looking out at the snow and letting Dean have a moment to collect himself. 

Dean stayed quiet for a long time before holding Sam a little tighter to his chest and whispering a, “I know you’re awake; it’s okay,” in Sam’s ear to which Sam only curled up closer to him. Dean pressed a kiss to his head, letting his head rest against Sam’s as he watched Bobby silently for a long while. When he finally was about to open his mouth up to say something, there was a knock on the door and the nurse entered the room for a fifteen-minute check-in. 

“Dean, how are you feeling?” She asked gently as she adjusted the covers on the bed and when Dean shrugged, she nodded, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Well, you’re going to feel a little better in a few minutes after we get that catheter out of you and then you can take a nice, warm shower. We were a little concerned about your urine output because you only have the one kidney now but it seems to be up a little from earlier and you’ve been putting out at least 500 milliliters every day so we’re confident that nothing’s wrong at least for the time being. We’ll keep monitoring though.” 

“Oh, thank god,” Dean murmured out, shifting a little bit. He didn’t know what she was talking about with the output but having the catheter out, that sounded amazing. “Bobby, you should go..” He frowned a little bit. Part of Dean wished it was only because he didn’t want Bobby to see his junk but no, it was more because he was terrified that Bobby was fucking with his head and that he really wasn’t okay with the new information. Everyone Dean loved left, after all. Except for Sam, Sam was back with him again and they would be okay.

“Yeah, I’m going to go. When I come back, I’ll bring you some clothes, your toothbrush, laptop, crap like that,” Bobby said as he grabbed his keys and cleared his throat. “See you, boys,” he added before he left the room. 

“We can wake up your boyfriend and have him sit outside while we take it out, too,” the nurse suggested with a gentle smile after the door shut.

“He’s not sleeping,” Dean said quietly as he stroked Sam’s hair. “And it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before,” he added with a slightly joking tone, feeling a sense of relief flood over him as he felt Sam smile even just a little bit against his shoulder.

The nurse nodded, helping Dean adjust and then helping him get his pants down. She drew the water out of the internal balloon before carefully removing the catheter. “If you have any incontinence and can’t feel when you need to go to the bathroom, be sure to tell one of us,” she said calmly, helping Dean get his pants down all the way. “We’re going to get a gown on you so we can get you into the bathroom for a shower.” 

Dean nodded, kissing Sam’s temple and carefully pulling away so he could slip his shirt over his head and then he let her put the gown on him before she put on a cast cover. She headed into the bathroom, setting up the shower chair and then returning to help Dean into the wheelchair. “If you just want to wait here while he showers, I’m sure that’d be fine,” the nurse said to Sam who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor.

“He’s coming with me,” Dean said as he looked between Sam and the nurse and when she frowned at him, he added to his thought. “Nothing sexual, I swear. He’s just, well, I’m sure you know. He can’t be apart from me. He’s got schizophrenia and he needs to be within reach twenty-four seven.” 

The nurse nodded, rolling Dean into the little bathroom and then helping him into the shower chair. “I’ll let you take your gown off and set the water. Your boundaries with your boyfriend are yours and yours alone. This is the call button.” She pointed to a button low on the wall in the shower. “If anything happens, hit it and someone’ll come help you. Don’t transfer by yourself.” She smiled gently at Dean before leaving him and Sam alone in the bathroom. 

When the main room door shut, Sam closed the bathroom door and locked it, stripping off his own clothes slowly and then stepping into the shower with Dean. He took off Dean’s gown and then messed with the water until it was a good temperature. “Sit on the floor with me?” Sam asked quietly, moving to carefully sit down on the cold tile and looking up at his brother with his best puppy-dog eyes. “Please?” 

So much for not self-transferring. Dean carefully moved to settle himself down on the floor, legs spread wide partially because of the cast but mostly because he wanted Sam to sit between his legs which Sam did wordlessly and Dean carefully started to wash Sam’s hair, massaging his scalp in the process. They both stayed quiet as Dean worked carefully, being sure not to get any shampoo in Sam’s eyes. After Dean had conditioned and rinsed Sam’s hair, he wrapped his arms around Sam, splaying both of his hands out on Sam’s chest and holding him firmly, his chin resting on Sam’s shoulder, his necklace resting against Sam’s back because he hadn’t taken it off; he never did. “Everything’s going to be just fine,” Dean said quietly, pressing slow kisses to Sam’s shoulder and neck before starting to massage them, carefully working out the knots individually with his thumbs. He let his eyes fall shut as he touched Sam’s skin, relaxing as well because he truly had faith for once that everything would be okay. Sam was back with him and it didn’t matter that they were brothers. If they could get through that, they could get through this. “I promise. We’re going to be okay. Even if Bobby thinks it over and doesn’t want us in his life, we’re going to be just fine because we’ve got each other and we’re all we need.” 


	23. Home

Dean spent a total of forty-one days in the hospital. Forty-one days from the time of the wreck to Dean being slowly rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair with no cast on his leg and his baby brother’s hand clutched in his to lead him because without it, Sam wasn’t aware enough to follow. 

Dean was thankful to see Bobby there. They’d had a few arguments about the brothers thing, yeah, but Bobby had always taken the ‘it’s okay’ side whereas Dean had taken the ‘you should be upset with us’ side, completely flipped from what Dean had expected when Bobby had first found out. But Bobby was there in his pickup, waiting for his boys and when the wheelchair was rolled up to the car, Dean spoke softly to Sam. “Sammy, kiddo, get in the back of the car.” 

Sam was out of it, almost entirely so. He had been walking around like he barely existed anymore. No meds, no therapy, no alone time with the one person who could ground him, it was a recipe for disaster. He barely spoke, only ate when Dean literally spoon-fed him because he didn’t have the motivation to raise the food to his mouth or the mental strength to fight back if it was actually poisoned like he thought it might be. He didn’t even dress himself, Dean had to do it for him. Even though he didn’t believe Dean was real yet, he still followed Dean’s instructions most of the time when he wasn’t having a psychotic break or a mental breakdown. And so he got into the car slowly, slumping against the far window and closing his eyes as the nurse aide assisted Dean with getting in as well. 

When the door was shut, Dean carefully pulled Sam across the seats and down so Sam’s head was resting in his lap. “Bobby? Could you take us to the grocery store and then home to our place?” He asked quietly, soothingly stroking Sam’s hair as Sam stared off into the distance at nothing Dean could see. “All our food’s gone bad, I’m sure, and I need to keep him eating. And I need to eat what I can, too, even though I’ve been throwing up most of it.” 

“I’m taking you straight home. I can buy your damn groceries but Sam, he needs to start getting help and we all know that starts with you. So I will buy your groceries, drop them off, and you two need some time alone. Start taking him back to therapy again. When you’re up for it, you can start fixing your car but until then I’ll give you a loner. For now, you need to focus on him. Yeah, you were in the coma, but right now, he needs your help. I bet he can’t even hear me right now.” 

“I can,” Sam whispered out, his voice sounding distant. He kept his eyes shut, reaching up to play with a stray thread on Dean’s jeans.

Dean smiled down at Sam as he continued to stroke Sam’s hair. “That’s good, sweetheart,” he said calmly. He hadn’t used more romantic nicknames really, not before the accident, but now that Sam’s mind was a total mess, Sam responded better to Dean being soft and gentle with him in every way. “I’m glad you can hear us because we’re here and we’re real and you should be hearing and responding to us.” He sighed when Sam only managed a half nod in return because he knew it meant Sam didn’t believe him. “I love you.”   
  
Sam didn’t respond, opening his eyes and resting his gaze on the passenger’s seat in the front of the car where Lucifer was fucking around with matches and fire while telling him over and over again that Dean wasn’t real, that Dean had died, and that the Dean Sam was touching was a figment of Sam’s imagination, a way for him to cope with Dean’s death. Sam had tried to fight back in the beginning but at this point, he really didn’t know who to believe. Dean, who he trusted with everything in him but could possibly be fake, or Lucifer, who almost never seemed to lie to him. Either way, he was aching down to his very core and he hoped that maybe he and Dean could attempt to have sex when they got home. He was almost certain he couldn’t make up the way it felt to have Dean pressed down against the bed underneath him, the way his skin tasted against his lips, the way his name sounded from Dean’s lips. He was almost certain that he couldn’t make up sex in his head. He closed his eyes again at the thoughts of Dean, focusing as best he could on those thoughts instead of Lucifer and the voices. 

When the car stopped and Dean got out, he had to force his hand into Sam’s so that Dean could lead him upstairs, his leg a little shaky as he stood. “We’ll see you later, Bobby,” Dean said quietly. “Can you pick up his prescription for his meds too? I’ll work on getting them into him.” When Bobby nodded, Dean offered a half wave and started to lead Sam into the building, Sam’s eyes still shut. He walked over to the elevator instead of the stairs, carefully pulling Sam in and pressing him back against one of the mirrored walls. “Look at me, honey.” 

Sam shook his head, speaking quietly and slowly. “Are we back at Firestone, Dean?” He asked quietly, his voice a little shaky and his eyes still shut. “I’m not crazy. I promise. I’m not. Please don’t put me back in that place, not without you.” 

“No, Sam, we’re home. At our apartment. We’re in the elevator going up to our place. We’ll get to be alone once the door is locked to the outside world,” Dean reassured calmly. “And we’re going to start getting you better. I’m going to take care of you. That’s my job, right? Taking care of my pain-in-the-ass little brother?” 

_ “That’s all you are to him: his brother. He doesn’t love you like you love him.”  _

“I’m your fiancé,” Sam said slowly after a second of hesitation, opening his eyes to take Dean’s left hand and look at the ring. “You agreed to marry me, right?” 

“Yeah, kiddo. I’m your fiancé and you're mine. But I’m also your big brother and I missed out on eighteen, almost nineteen years of getting to take care of you so I have a lot to make up for. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of you.” Dean did really hate that he had missed out on getting to help out with raising Sam. He wished he had gotten to watch Sam grow up, watch him hit his milestones. Most of all, he wished he had gotten to see the Sam that he had seen in the few photos that Sam had. Happy and carefree. Not damaged. He loved Sam either way, even if it hurt him to watch his brother like this and feel him slipping away through his fingers. 

“I want to take care of you, too,” Sam whispered back, holding onto Dean’s hand tightly. Still, he sounded somewhat distant. “You’re broken, Dean.. I want to help fix you.” 

“Wow, thanks,” Dean muttered out sarcastically which somehow managed to make Sam’s lips quirk up in the slightest bit of a smile. Just that was enough to make Dean laugh, pressing fully up against Sam for a moment as the elevator doors opened up to an old woman with her reusable fucking grocery bags and Dean flushed, clearing his throat and taking Sam’s hand to haul him down the hall as she gave them a funny look before getting into the elevator. She couldn’t know their circumstances so Dean knew she had assumed something raunchy about Dean being pressed against Sam in an elevator. Not that he cared. Sam was his in every sense of the word and whoever saw that and wanted to judge them, they didn’t matter.

Dean pulled Sam into their apartment and when the door was shut and locked, he pressed Sam back against the door again. “I don’t need to be fixed, Sam. I’m okay,  _ honest _ ,” he said seriously, a little smile forming on his lips. It was true. Some of the darkness felt like it was suppressed, at least for the time being. Sam being so sick gave Dean something to channel his energy into and it made him feel something. Worry, yes, but it was something. It wasn’t emptiness and that was a step forward. 

“You hate yourself, Dean,” Sam said quietly, a little worried about the statement because his Dean, the real Dean, he would never say something like that. Maybe that was the discontinuity. Not Dean’s body but his words instead.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean agreed quietly, his hands slipping up under Sam’s shirt to rest on his bare hips. “But loving you, kiddo.. Taking care of you, it helps everything hurt a little less. Loving you makes me hating myself, it makes it just a little more bearable. You give me a reason to want to live, baby brother.”

“Have sex with me,” Sam said blatantly which, if Dean was being honest with himself, was a little shocking from Sam’s mouth.  “My Dean would never say that. You’re not him. You physically can’t sleep with me. You’re not him. It won’t happen. You’ll disappear before it can happen. So sleep with me. Prove it to me. Prove to me that you’re real.” 

Dean knew that Sam could actually hallucinate sex but everything in him was glad that Sam didn’t know that that was a possibility because yeah, sex to cope wasn’t particularly healthy but what the hell  _ was _ healthy about their relationship? “Okay. Yeah. We can have sex. We can do that, sweetie. Because I  _ am _ real and just like I promised, you can kiss every inch of me at some point, my scars too, all of it. And there will be no discontinuity because I. Am. Real.”

“Liar,” Sam said a little harshly, making Dean flinch in a way only their father could make him do. If Dean needed a confirmation that Sam was related to John, that was it. Dean was momentarily concerned that Sam would hit him like what happened whenever Dean restrained him during a psychotic break. But then reality checked in as soon as he saw tears starting to stream down Sam’s cheeks and he heard a broken repeat of the word, “liar,” from his brother’s lips. 

“No. Maybe to other people but not to you. You and me, we’re going to have sex, okay? We’re going to go to our bedroom and we’re going to kiss and touch and you’re going to prove it to yourself that I am real because I can’t seem to prove it to you and you, Sam Winchester, are the strongest person I know and I fucking love that about you. You are going to be okay. Do you remember where our room is?” 

“Yeah,” Sam whispered out as he moved out from being pressed against the door. He took a deep shaky breath. Either this worked and Dean was really there, it was really Dean, or this didn’t work and his hallucination disappeared before they could actually sleep together. If the latter happened, Sam was almost certain it meant Dean was dead and he decided then that if this didn’t work, if this wasn’t Dean and these last weeks since Dean had woken up were all in his head, he would end it. He would go and join Dean in Heaven if this didn’t work. He kept that to himself though as they walked into the bedroom. For a moment, he closed his eyes and stopped, just praying to God that this really was his Dean. The last thing on his mind was the fact that this was the first time they’d be having sex with the knowledge that they were brothers.

Dean shut the door after them, locking it as well even though the front door was already locked. “Sammy, when we’re done, I’m going to give you a massage,” he said calmly, walking over and carefully pressing Sam up against the wall. “Does that sound nice?” 

Sam nodded as he carefully slid his hands up Dean’s side, still searching for some sort of mistake in his memory that would cause some sort of discontinuity. “Okay,” Sam quietly whispered with no further elaboration.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Dean said softly, reaching up to push Sam’s hair back out of his face. It felt right to talk through everything that they were doing because it didn’t really feel super consensual even though he knew it was. Sam wasn’t quite in his right mind to consent but Sam wasn’t going to be in his right mind unless they had sex and Dean was proved to be real, making it a bit of a catch-22. But Sam was asking for it and so Dean hoped he was at least in his right mind enough that this really was consensual. God, he’d feel horrible if it wasn’t. 

Sam closed the space between them, carefully kissing Dean and planting his hands firmly on Dean’s hips. He carefully turned them around so Dean was pressed up against the wall to have some sort of control over what was going on because over the last month and a half, he had felt like he had absolutely no control over his life and having control when they had sex always helped with that feeling. He also knew Dean liked giving up control too him and if it was real, Dean had had far too much control over him these last few weeks because he hadn’t been doing another for himself. He broke the kiss after a long while, carefully fumbling with the hem of Dean’s shirt which prompted Dean to tug it over his head, tossing it to the ground. 

“New scars,” Sam whispered out, skimming his fingers over the scar from Dean’s nephrectomy. “Why would you do that to yourself? It’s not straight..” 

“I didn’t do that one, sweetheart; you know that,” Dean reassured softly, reaching up to unbutton Sam’s flannel. He had been dressing Sam because Sam hadn’t been clear-minded enough to do it for himself so dressing and undressing Sam was oddly natural now. He pushed Sam’s flannel down off his shoulders and let it fall down to the ground, resisting the urge to pick it up and fold it. “I’m not going to do it anymore, I swear. It’ll be hard but I need to start getting better so I can take care of you.”

_ “He’s going to disappear. Stop it!”  _

Sam nodded as Dean undid his jeans, reaching to fumble with the button of Dean’s jeans before ultimately giving up on trying to open them because his hands were trembling too much. It felt horrifying, doing this when he wasn’t yet sure if Dean was real but he knew he needed to do it if he wanted to prove to himself if it really was one way or the other. “You’re not real,” he whispered out to himself more than to Dean because he needed to start preparing himself for the inevitable. He took a deep breath, ignoring all of the screaming in his mind that was telling him Dean would disappear as soon as they tried to have sex, that he should keep the illusion going to save his life. He muttered a, “shut up,” to the voices, turning Dean around and shoving him against the wall face first. 

The motion knocked the wind out of Dean but he complied, carefully undoing his own jeans and shoving them down with his boxers. “I’m real,” he murmured out quietly, feeling like a broken record. Those were probably the words he had said most in his entire life and that was really only from saying them these last few weeks.

“No, you’re not,” Sam whispered out, stepping out of his own jeans but not his briefs and pressing up against Dean, caging him in against the wall with most of their skin pressed together. “You’re not real..”

“I am real,” Dean gritted out as he shut his eyes. God, if Sam even tried anything without lube, he’d have to stop them no matter how much he didn’t want to. It was because he was real that he’d be able to feel a fuckton of pain if Sam tried anything. “I’m real, Sammy. I’m real.” 

_ “If this was really him, he would have left you eons ago. You’re a fucking wreck.”  _

“No..” Sam whispered out as he started to press kisses to Dean’s neck and shoulder, keeping his body pressed against Dean’s. “No, you’re not. You would have left me by now if you were real. No one wants to deal with me.” He took a deep breath, pulling away and walking over to their dresser to grab the bottle of lube that was in there. He walked back over, shedding his briefs and pressing against Dean again. He wrapped his arms around his big brother, closing his eyes and hugging him from behind, clinging to him as he pressed his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. 

Dean covered one of Sam’s hands with his own, linking their fingers together. “No. I want to deal with you. I’m not leaving you. Not ever. Because you know what, kiddo? There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you so I couldn’t ditch you even if I did want to. We’re both here and I’m going to take care of you from now until the end of time. And you’re going to fuck me and prove to yourself that this is me. That it’s me here with you.” 

“Dean would have left me,” Sam whispered out, talking more right now than he had in weeks. “ _ You _ should have left me if this really is real.” He took a deep breath, pulling back and pouring some of the lube onto his fingers before he pressed up against Dean again, carefully easing one into his hole and closing his eyes when it disappeared into Dean’s body.

Despite not at all being in the mood for sex and really more in the mood for just crying and begging Sam to believe him, Dean felt his body responding to the finger prodding him as blood rushed downwards. When Sam pressed into his prostate, a small, weak moan escaped him.

The moan was enough encouragement for Sam to keep going and so he pressed fully up against Dean again as he eased a second finger in without any finesse, also getting turned on from just the idea of sex; he was a teenager still after all, even if his brain was screwed up and he was engaged. He spent the next few minutes working Dean open, his face pressed against Dean’s shoulder and his breathing getting a little heavy as he listened to Dean’s moans and heard his own mixed with them. The voices were more of a dull roar in his head now instead of sounding so overpowering but Dean’s sounds were clear and that gave him hope.

“‘m good, Sammy,” Dean breathed out after Sam’s third finger even though he really shouldn’t have because he wasn’t really stretched out enough. At this point, however, Dean didn’t care if it hurt like a motherfucker, he only cared that Sam knew he was real sooner rather than later. “Fuck me. I’m real; you’ll be able to. I’m real.” 

Sam pulled back to add more lube to his own cock and to Dean’s hole, pressing up against him and using his hand to position himself. He felt like he was about to cry because this was it, if Dean disappeared, Sam was done. He didn’t want to live anymore if these last few weeks had all been in his head. If Dean was still dying, dead even, Sam would join him. Simple as that. He couldn’t find the motivation to push in, tears beginning to silently stream down his cheeks and drip down onto Dean’s freckled shoulder. 

Dean didn’t say anything about the tears that he could feel because he was pretty sure that he was crying too and fuck, it was like their first time all over again. Way too many fucking tears. “I’m real.. You’ll be okay.. I’m real,” he whispered out meekly. “One push, Sammy, and it’ll prove it to you.”

Sam nodded, pressing his face into the crook of Dean’s neck again and in one firm push, he shoved in. Everything came crashing down as he felt the extremely tight heat of Dean’s ass around his cock and relief flooded through him because he was feeling something. He was feeling Dean’s body against his and Dean was there with him. Dean was still there. A wrecked sob escaped him as he wrapped his arms around his big brother, clinging to him for dear life. All he could feel was pure and utter relief because this was his Dean. Dean hadn’t left him. Dean had kept his promises. Everything was going to be okay, just like Dean had promised. 

“I’m real,” Dean whispered out in confirmation, his voice strained because he had been right; he wasn’t stretched enough and he was in a little bit of pain. However, that didn’t matter at all because Sam believed him now and he knew it because to some, any sobbing would seem like sobbing but Dean knew Sam inside and out and this, he knew, was relieved sobbing and god, it felt better than sex ever could, knowing that Sam believed him now. “I’m here, little brother. I’m here.” 

_ “He’s not real.” _

Sam nodded against his shoulder, his hands trembling as he fumbled for Dean’s, clutching them in a painfully tight way, the cool metal of Dean’s ring also bringing him a sense of relief because it meant Dean had said yes to him. It was somewhat grounding. Dean was real, Dean wanted him, everything would be okay. It didn’t matter what Lucifer or the voices said. Dean mattered and that was it. 

They stayed there in silence for a solid few minutes as Sam let out hiccuped sobs against Dean’s shoulder until Sam finally spoke up. “You stayed,” he breathed out, clutching Dean’s hands bone-crushingly tight and starting to shallowly thrust so he wouldn’t separate their bodies any more than necessary. “You stayed with me, Dean.. You’re here,” he gasped out through a few quiet moans, biting down on Dean’s shoulder to stop another sob. 

“I’m..” Dean was cut off by a groan as Sam rocked into his prostate, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. “Forever, Sammy. I swore I wouldn’t leave you.” He still wasn’t in the mood for sex, not really, but as much relief as Sam was feeling, Dean was pretty sure he was feeling twice as much because Sam believed him now. He believed him and Dean needed that. He also needed it so he could start getting Sam better. 

Sam nodded, falling silent save for his gasps, sobs, and moans. “Marry me,” he breathed out as he started to get closer to his orgasm even though they’d barely been there for a couple minutes. Everything was so overwhelming and for once, it wasn’t overwhelming in a horrible way. “Please, De..” 

“I already--” Dean groaned, carefully letting go of one of Sam’s hands to reach down and stroke himself, holding onto Sam’s other hand just as tight as Sam was holding on. He wasn’t going to argue about having already said yes. “Yes, Sammy. I’ll marry you.”

Sam grunted against his shoulder, starting to thrust much deeper and harder as he shoved Dean back fully against the wall. It took another minute or so before his body was trembling even harder and he felt heat coiling in his stomach. He shoved in hard a few more times before, “big brother,” was tumbling past his lips as his hips stuttered and he came deep inside Dean without any warning and a little prematurely. No sex for a while, plus tons of emotions wasn’t a good way to have stamina. 

Dean hadn’t been super close but the combination of Sam coming inside of him and more importantly, how filthy ‘big brother’ sounded when they were in such a compromising position, that was enough to push him over the edge and he barely had enough time to cover up his tip with his hand so he wouldn’t come on the wall before he was moaning Sam’s name and spilling into his hand, body going slack under Sam’s weight. 

_ “You’re a mess. He should have left you.”  _

They stayed there silent for a long while, Sam’s tears eventually stopping as he clung to Dean. “Thank you,” he whispered after almost a solid ten minutes, carefully pulling out and turning Dean around again to press him against the wall once again, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he stared into Dean’s. His bottom lip started to tremble as he surged forward to press his mouth to Dean’s, kissing him deeply as the tears started to drip down his cheeks again. He pulled back after a short while, letting his forehead rest against Dean’s as a small sob escaped him. “I love you.. I love you. Thank you for staying with me.” 

“Sammy, please don’t thank me for staying. It’s not an obligation and honestly, it’s not even a choice anymore. It’s neither. It’s nothing I need to be thanked for. My damn soul aches for yours. I can’t live without you and I don’t want to. So don’t thank me for any of it. I love you..” He hesitated for a second before adding, “bitch.” 

Sam laughed wetly for the first time in ages, pressing his mouth to Dean’s again and kissing him firmly for a long moment before he whispered back, “jerk,” against his brother’s mouth. When he pulled back, he placed his hands under Dean’s ass, lifting him up off the ground and spinning them around in a circle which clearly terrified the fuck out of Dean. Dean wrapped his arm with his clean hand around Sam’s neck, a small, relieved laugh escaping him after a moment, not from being lifted but because things were looking up. 

When Sam basically dropped Dean onto the bed, he bounced slightly from the force but he grinned up at his little brother nonetheless, grabbing a tissue to wipe off his hand and between his legs to clean up the come that had leaked out of him. He tossed it into the trash before speaking again. “I’m not leaving you, kiddo. No matter how tough things get. You know, for better or for worse, sickness, health, richer, poorer, ‘till death do us part. Vows.”

Sam nodded, crawling over Dean and pressing his lips to Dean’s again, grinning against his mouth and rolling them so Dean was straddling him and on top. 

Dean pulled back from the kiss to beam down at his little brother, feeling lighter than he had in such a long time. “I’m here, kiddo. No matter what. Oh.. and I have even better news that I wanted you to know after you were sure I was real..”

“Good news?” Sam asked even though Dean had just said it was ‘better news.’ “What happened?” 

“You’re getting a service dog, sweetheart,” Dean whispered out with a loving smile on his lips as he gazed down at Sam. “We, me and Bobby, explained the situation to an organization in Colorado that trains service dogs for people with psychiatric disabilities and you’re getting one in the next couple months. He’s going to be able to help you out with lots of things. He’ll be able to bark if someone’s actually there or not bark if the person’s just in your head. He’ll be able to bring you to me if we get separated. He’ll help you during panic attacks. He’ll be able to tell you, or maybe me, if you’re about to have one. And he’ll be able to do deep pressure therapy. Of course, I’ll still do all of that but he’ll help you too.”   
  
“A.. dog? We’re getting a dog?” Sam asked slowly, his face lighting up like a child on Christmas and Dean couldn’t help but smile back because god, he had missed smiles like that from Sam. “Dean!”

“Yeah, kiddo. We’re getting a dog,” Dean said softly, leaning down to press kissed all over Sam’s face and laughing softly. “They have one that they think will be a good fit for you. His name’s Ace. He’s a german shepherd who failed police training because he was too loving and friendly but he’s been doing great in the program. He’s almost done with his training and then, hopefully, we’ll get to take him home and he’ll start helping you. He’ll go everywhere with us so that he can help you all the time.” 

“But.. you don’t want a dog in your car,” Sam said with his bright smile fading into a small frown. “He can’t go everywhere without being in the car.” 

“Kiddo, I would take a hundred dogs in my car if it meant helping your health,” Dean reassured softly as he leaned down to press a line of kisses down Sam’s neck and sternum before looking back up. “He’ll help you. That’s all I care about.” 

Sam nodded slowly, smiling small as he looked up at Dean. “De?” He asked quietly, holding out his hand and squeezing Dean’s hand when Dean took it. “Can we try to sleep? I.. I haven’t been sleeping well, not at all.” He thought maybe, now that he was almost certain that Dean was real, he would be able to sleep just a little bit better. 

“I know you haven’t, Sammy,” Dean murmured out softly as he nodded and carefully laid down beside Sam, pulling their blankets over their naked bodies. He adjusted them so Sam was laying with his head on Dean’s chest, Sam’s fingers splayed out on his stomach. “Sleep. I’ll be here, holding you, even when you wake up. I’ll give you that massage when you wake up, too; you need it.” He smiled down at his little brother, rubbing soothing circles into Sam’s bicep with his thumb until Sam drifted to sleep in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, bitches.   
> Sorry about the break in uploads. It was finals week (I did well on all my finals, yay!) and now I have time again to write this. Hopefully, I'll be finishing it up sometime soon. Only a few more chapters to go!  
> \--  
> Note: Sex is not a healthy way in most cases to cope with mental health problems and they are unhealthily attached to one another. Sam and Dean's relationship is not meant to be healthy, as it is meant to mirror the show's codependency. Some of y'all need to stop coming after me about 'oh, that's so unhealthy.' It's meant to be. It's not meant to butterflies and rainbows. It's not meant to be how you want your relationships to be. It's intentionally unhealthy so hush. Stop coming for me.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four, Time for a Wedding!

The next three months were a blur and gradually, Sam started to get better, thanks to Dean. Dean would drive him to therapy at least three days a week even though they really couldn’t afford it, despite Sam’s mother’s insurance; he had gotten Sam back on his meds; and he had gotten Sam eating healthy again. Things were getting better and that felt really good for Dean. He had been happy a lot more despite the circumstances. He was proud of his partner and he smiled a little more often. It was over smaller things now that he was happy. When Sam would remember to brush his teeth at night without Dean having to push him, Dean would be happy. When Sam would get dressed without any help, it would make Dean happy. When Sam settled himself on the kitchen counter while Dean cooked, nose buried in a book, that would make Dean truly and genuinely happy for hours afterward because his Sam was coming back, slowly but surely.

It had taken a while but Dean had gotten Sam enrolled in online school to finish his high school diploma and while Sam wasn’t doing great at actually finishing school work because his mental health was still so bad and so time-consuming, he had a lot of accommodations and he was passing all of his classes. Things were beginning to fall into place. They had also planned on getting married soon after Dean’s release from the hospital. Nothing fancy, just going to City Hall and signing the papers, having a short little ceremony with vows, and then starting the process of changing Sam’s last name. Legally, they could marry despite being half-brothers because there were only four people in the world who knew about their shared blood and there were no legal documents stating that they were related; nothing of Sam’s had John’s name on it. Dean had already gotten their marriage license shortly after being released from the hospital.

Everything had also been confirmed for Ace’s arrival. The organization was going to put Ace onto a plane, send him from Colorado to Kansas for Dean and Sam to pick him up at the airport and then Sam would have a few video sessions with the trainer to get Sam up to date on everything Ace would be able to do for him as well as the commands and gestures that went along with the actions. Technically, Ace would still be in training when they got him, training to help Sam specifically, but he would be ready to go with Sam anywhere, both for emotional comfort and for tasks that didn’t need to be specifically Sam-centric yet like leading Sam away from crowded situations where he would panic.

Today was that day. The day for both major events to happen. It was around eleven in the morning and Dean was spoon-feeding Sam oatmeal for breakfast because Sam was having a really rough morning and he had been refusing to eat until Dean sat down with him and hummed to him while forcing bites of food into his mouth. When he’d gotten Sam to eat half the bowl, he got up and offered Sam his hand, which Sam silently took, leading him to the bathroom. He got the shower ready, turning around to carefully undress Sam, and then instructing him to get into the shower. When Sam was in, Dean stepped in as well. He washed Sam’s hair and body before cleaning himself off as well, in a genuinely good mood. He had been taking his own medications lately so he had more energy and that helped too. He had been dissociating barely once a day and only for short periods of time because he was always busy with Sam and he normally only dissociated when he wasn’t busy with something else. Even him partaking in automatic behaviors rarely happened anymore.

When he and Sam were both clean, he let Sam run his fingers over all of the scars on Dean’s hips and stomach to ground himself, Dean’s hands soothingly rubbing up and down Sam’s arms. “You’re okay,” he said calmly when Sam’s hands stilled. He pulled away to shut off the water, stepping out and grabbing a towel for Sam first, wrapping it around Sam’s shoulder silently before drying himself off and pulling on a pair of sweats. He helped Sam dress in a nice flannel and jeans, smiling to himself as he fixed up Sam’s hair. “Ace comes home today, kiddo,” Dean said calmly. “We get married tonight. It’s a good day. I know you aren’t feeling too hot but it’s a good day, I promise.”

_“No, you’re not. This is all in your head. No one would ever want to marry your sorry ass.”_

Despite having been silent the whole morning, Sam smiled softly at his fiancé and let himself wrap his arms around Dean’s waist, thankful when Dean hugged him back tightly. “I’m so lucky I get to marry you, Dean..” He said calmly as he lifted Dean up and twirled them around with a small laugh. His mood had lifted almost instantly at Dean mentioning their wedding. “I get to marry you.”

Dean, as always, tensed when his feet left the floor but he kept his arms around Sam and let him spin them, his eyes falling shut when Sam set him back down but didn’t let go. “Yeah, kiddo. You get to marry me. I’m the lucky one though. I get to spend the rest of my life with the actual sun,” Dean teased, making Sam’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “You, sunshine,” Dean clarified with a small laugh. “I get to spend the rest of my life with _you_.”  Way to be extra sappy today, Dean. But he didn’t mind for once because it was his wedding day and he was allowed to be happy. 

_“He’s lying to you.”_

Sam smiled lovingly at Dean in that way that also made Dean’s chest feel all warm and fuzzy and that was absolutely contagious. So Dean smiled back, reaching up to brush his knuckles over Sam’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, Sam Winchester.” He flashed Sam a grin before leaning up to peck Sam’s lips and then turning to grab one of Sam’s shirt from the closet, putting it on himself.

“When did you turn into such a sap?” Sam asked as he leaned against the wall, clearly doing a little better now after the shower than he had been earlier in the morning. “What happened to my ‘no click-flick moments’ boyfriend?”

“I’m here. I’m just in a good mood. I’m allowed to be in a good mood. It’s our wedding day,” Dean said with a small hum, pulling on a pair of boxers and then jeans.

“I’m happy,” Sam said quietly, reaching up to rub over the bags under his eyes. “I just.. I really don’t understand why you stay with me even when I’m so fucked up.”

“Language I’m the one in this relationship that curses,” Dean teased lightly, smiling when Sam rolled his eyes. “You know why I stay with you? Because I need you in my life, Sammy. I love you. Honest. You mean everything to me and I’m not going to ditch you just because you’re..” He twirled his finger by the side of his head to indicate ‘crazy.’

_“He thinks you’re insane. He just said it out loud.”_

“Scrambled eggs for brains? Yeah,” Sam said a little shyly as he watched Dean closely. “I know.. I’m trying, De. I’m trying.”

“And I know that. I know you’re trying and I’m proud of you. I wouldn’t help you, love you, take care of you if I didn’t want to, Sam. I don’t do things I don’t want to. Think about that when you’re questioning why I’m with you. I’m with you because I want to be with you. And I’m always going to choose you. I wouldn’t be marrying you if I didn’t know for certain that I want you every day for the rest of my life, no matter how long or short.”

“That was majorly sappy,” Sam whispered out with a loving little smile as he walked over, pecking Dean’s lips. “I love you, Dean..”

“Mm,” Dean hummed lightly as he wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, kissing him soft and firm for a few moments before he pulled back. “Sit down. Can you get your own shoes on?”  
  
“ ‘m an adult,” Sam mumbled out as he took the sneakers that Dean had handed him and slipped them on, tying them up once he had sat down.

Dean didn’t comment on the fact that Sam had barely been able to stand, let alone get dressed or tie his shoes, at some points just a week prior. Just a day prior. It varied daily. “I know you are,” he murmured out softly, sitting down beside Sam on the edge of the bed. “I’m proud of you,” he said calmly. “We’re going to meet Ace today, hm?” He slipped his combat boots on, tying them up and then placing his hand on Sam’s thigh. “You excited?”

“Yeah. I love dogs,” Sam said quietly, leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder and covering Dean’s hand with his own. “I can’t believe we’re going to get a dog..” He smiled, turning Dean’s hand over so he could lace their fingers together.

“He’s going to help you,” Dean said calmly. “He’s an extra special dog.” He stood up, using the hand that Sam was holding to pull Sam up to his feet, leading him to towards their bedroom door and grabbing the keys to the rusty red pickup truck they’d been driving since the hospital. He led Sam out and down to the car and they spent the next hour or so driving to the airport. When they got there, Dean coordinated with the staff there and about twenty minutes after arrival, a pet carrier was brought out, a beautiful, long-haired golden shepherd laying there in the cage calmly.

Sam was leaning into Dean’s side when they brought the dog over and he was practically bouncing up and down beside Dean, his hand clutching Dean’s tightly. When Dean signed and the worker left, Sam kneeled down beside the cage, speaking softly. “Ace. Hi there, buddy. I’m Sam. I’m your new owner. Dean too. Dean’s your owner too.” He unlatched it. “Ace, come.” Ace listened, stepping out of the cage and sitting down calmly in front of Sam. Sam’s arms went right around his neck, hugging him tightly and closing his eyes as Dean sat down on the floor of the airport beside Sam.

“I love him, De,” Sam whispered as he pressed his face into the soft fur. “Thank you.” He smiled against the dog, closing his eyes as Dean started to rub his back soothingly.

“He’s not just a pet, Sam. You know that vest we got in the mail? That’s for Ace. Because he’s a service dog, he’ll go with you everywhere, okay? We’re going to talk to the trainer today, start getting him trained to only listen to us. You specifically. And then he’s going to help you out from now on.”

Sam nodded as he pulled back, looking over at Dean and smiling bashfully. “You’re amazing. Let’s go home.”

Dean nodded, standing up and offering Sam his hand after he had hooked the leash onto Ace. When Sam took it, Dean helped him stand, leaning to press a short kiss to his lips and getting a nasty look from someone nearby. Dean shot them a death glare back, handing Sam the leash so he could carry the cage. They headed to the car and Dean got the cage into the back seat before helping Sam get in the car and getting Ace into the back.

When they got home, they headed inside and put Ace’s new collar on, the one with the customized dog tags. Sam spent a full hour happily playing with the dog on the living room floor while Dean watched from the doorway of their room, a loving smile on his lips. This was the boy he got to marry and Dean couldn’t be happier. He loved Sam with every ounce of his very being. With every piece of his heart and soul. Seeing Sam happy and playing with the dog on the floor of their home confirmed everything to him for the thousandth time. “I love you, Sammy,” Dean said calmly even though Sam didn’t hear him.

Dean turned around, walking into their bedroom to get dressed for their wedding ceremony in less than an hour’s time. He put on a white, long-sleeved button-down before a pair of black slacks and a black blazer that he’d bought especially for this, for their wedding. He smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror, carefully tying his deep purple tie that made his eyes stand out. (Sam had picked it.)

“Sammy!” Sam heard Dean yell and his first thought was worry. _“He’s dying!”_ He got up off the floor, quickly walking into the room and stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Dean, his heart starting to pound. “You look so beautiful,” Sam whispered out quietly, walking over to straighten Dean’s tie. “God.. I get to marry you. I’m so lucky.”

“I don’t look half as stunning as you will,” Dean said softly, a little bit shyly, as he started to unbutton Sam’s flannel. “We need to go soon. Let’s get you dressed, yeah?”

Sam helped by undressing himself but he let Dean redress him in the same thing almost as Dean was wearing but with a waistcoat and a bowtie instead of a tie. “I look stupid,” Sam whispered once the bowtie was tied and he could see himself in the mirror. “I look so stupid, De..”

“Shut your damn mouth,” Dean whispered out, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist from behind. He rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder, looking at both of them in the mirror with a loving smile on his lips. “You’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met. You’ve got adorable hair. The most beautiful eyes on planet Earth. You’re physically fit, _somehow._ You’re tall, dark, and handsome. And most important, you’re the kindest, sweetest boy I’ve ever met despite having so much bad stuff happen to you. You’re my soulmate, kiddo. And I love you with all of me.”

_“He doesn’t think any of that. He’s lying.”_

“Normally, I’m the one talking about soulmates,” Sam whispered out shyly, his face flushed because it was nice, looking at them together in the mirror and hearing Dean talk about him. It felt good. “I love you.”

“Yeah, well, you said it yourself earlier. I’m in a sappy mood,” Dean teased as he splayed his hands out on Sam’s chest. “And you’re stunning and me, I’m so damn lucky. I get to marry the most perfect boy in the world. And he’s also my baby brother so I love him twice as much as I ever thought possible. In two ways. Both in a husband-y way and a brother way.”

“Me too. I wrote my vows.. Let me get them and we can go,” Sam said quietly as he pulled out of Dean’s embrace. He grabbed his journal out of his bedside table, smiling at Dean genuinely. “Let’s go. We’re picking up Bobby, right?”

“Yes, yes, we are. He’s our witness, kiddo. Plus he’s the only person I would really want at our wedding,” Dean said calmly as he adjusted his tie, humming softly.

“Is it bad that I don’t my mom at our wedding? Is that selfish?”

“Sammy.. I.. As much as I hate to say it, I don’t exactly think she’d be coming even if we invited her. She.. She doesn’t approve, even though we need one another regardless of our status as siblings. Okay? Do you still care?”

“No. I want to.. _need_ to spend the rest of my life with you. You being my big brother.. it makes me love you even more,” Sam whispered out as he reached his hand out for Dean’s, lacing their fingers together and letting Dean lead him downstairs and outside to the car, both of them falling into a peaceful silence. Well, peaceful for Dean. Sam just ignored the voices, letting himself focus on what his other senses were picking up. That was as much silence as he ever got. He focused on the feeling of Dean’s once-rough-now-baby-smooth hand in his own. The look of Dean’s profile. The feeling of the cool air blowing from the vents and messing up his hair. The smell of worn leather and Dean’s somewhat woodsy cologne. He focused on the warmth blooming in his chest and the smile he could feel resting on his lips as they got closer to Bobby’s because they were actually doing this. The rest of the world didn’t matter. His thoughts didn’t matter. The voices didn’t matter. Just Dean.  Dean wanted to marry him. Dean was all that mattered.

When Sam next zoned back in, it was to a tight squeeze to his hand that Dean was holding and he looked up at his brother. “Hm? Are we at Bobby’s?”

“City Hall,” Bobby commented from the backseat, causing Sam to almost jump out of his skin, hitting his head on the ceiling from the jolt.

“When..-”

Dean cut his little brother off. “You zoned out. I didn’t want to bother you. You seemed happy with whatever you were thinking about,” he said calmly as he brought Sam’s hand up to his mouth, kissing it. “Let’s go get married, kiddo.”

“I was happy about what I was thinking about,” Sam replied softly as he got out of the car, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands before slipping his hand back into Dean’s, Bobby following both of them into the building.

Dean gave them his name and they sat down, hands still comfortably linked. They got a few glares from other couples but Dean didn’t care and Sam didn’t notice, focused on playing with the ring on Dean’s finger, the cool metal genuinely soothing and grounding. He stayed focused on Dean’s ring until Dean’s name was called.

They got up, heading back to the little room and Dean smiled a little bit at all the flowers even though flowers weren’t at all his thing. He spoke with the ordained minister, giving him their full names and then smiling over at his Sammy before looking at the man again. “And we have our own vows.”

The little ceremony started with Sam and Dean, hands joined and eyes on each other. Dean didn’t really care about any of the mumbo-jumbo, impersonal verbal filler. But he listened anyway, a loving smile on his lips as he watched Sam, who, unlike him, was attentively listening and soaking all of it in. When the time came for the vows, Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam cut him off in true annoying-little-brother fashion.

“Dean Winchester..” Sam started, clearing his throat and carefully taking out his journal, flipping through to the page and glancing up at Dean. “Let me start with.. I love you. Plain and simple. I think I always have. In the beginning, I thought.. I thought you were going to hurt me, physically, mentally. Leave me, crush me..” He ignored the momentarily concerned look that crossed the minister’s features at the mention of Dean hurting him physically. “Turned out I would be the one to hurt you. I hit you when I can’t think straight and I’m sorry. I mentally left you when my mom told us.. That news and then.. And then you almost died because of it. That’s on me. I’m going to live with that for the rest of my life, the knowledge that I could have been the reason that my husband died.” He reached up, wiping his eyes even though the tears hadn’t yet fallen and setting the journal down on the ground before rejoining his hands with Dean’s. “We’ve been through ev-everything so far together and I want to go through everything from here on out with you, too. You swore on my life that you’d never leave me.. And.. and that was the most realistic thing you could have said because without you.. I’m not going to live for very long. I want to do everything together with you. And if we die, I want to do that together, too.” He carefully slipped Dean’s engagement ring off his finger. “So marry me, De.. Please.. I need you.” When Dean nodded with a whispered, “of course,” Sam slid it back on.

“I’ve practiced this in the mirror a thousand times and I’m still nervous. I uh, I don’t have any fancy piece of paper,” Dean admitted with a wet laugh before he took a deep breath and started. “Sammy, we’ve been to Hell and back together in every way imaginable. With your health and mine.. First Firestone, then Lawrence Memorial. I feel like more of our relationship has been spent in hospitals than outside of them. I think if we tallied up the days, that would actually be a true fact. But no more. No more hospital. Just you, me, and now Ace and our home. I’m not ditching you, okay? Never. If I was going to leave you, I would have done it by now. But I’m not going to. Not today, not tomorrow, not in fifty years. It’s hard, Sammy. I want to die. I’ve tried, what, six times? Five? Seven? Times to kill myself and now I have a reason to live. I have a beautiful husband to take care of and love and cherish. I want to be able to wake up having my only problem in the world be that you’re a human radiator and I’m overheating. I want to wake up and make you breakfast and have you come into the kitchen and wrap your arms around my waist so you can watch me cook and sway us. I know I moan and groan about it but I love it. I _love_ it. I want to sing to you when you’re breaking and I want to be the one who you know you can trust, no matter what the voices tell you.”

Again, there was another concerned look from the minister but Dean ignored it. “I didn’t think I’d live to ten, fifteen, twenty.. I’m twenty-three now and I want to live to a hundred if it means having you by my side every day for the rest of my life. And you know, I didn’t believe in that soulmate kind of bullshit before you mentioned it some time ago.. But I do now. Because I think if things were different.. If we weren’t.. You know, what your mom told us.. And if you weren’t sick and if I wasn’t and if everything was different.. I think I would have still fallen head over heels for you. I think I’ve belonged to you since before we were born.” He reached up, carefully wiping the tears from his baby brother’s cheeks with his thumb. “I want you, Sam. I want you for you. Scrambled eggs for brains and all,” he teased, making Sam laugh wetly. “I want you. I want you when you have breakdowns.  I want you when you hit me during your breakdowns. I want you when you can’t even manage to get yourself dressed. I want you when you don’t believe I’m real. I want you when you don’t think I do. I want you when you can’t shower on your own or when you collapse because you’ve refused to eat all day. But you know what, Sam, I also want you when you smile at my stupid jokes and I want you when you curl up with me on the couch, smaller than someone who’s 6’4 should be able to make themself. I want you when we have sex or when we take long drives going nowhere in particular. Most of all, I want you when you smile, lighting up the whole room and my whole damn world. You have the most beautiful smile.. I want to be the reason that smile gets shared with the world.” He shook his head, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “I want you, no matter what. Like you said.. For better or for worse. In health and sickness.. For richer or poorer.. Bad mental health or good. Happy or sad. And if we die, we’ll do that together, too.” He reached up to wipe his eyes before slipping his mother's, Kate’s, ring off his finger. They hadn’t gotten Sam a ring. They hadn’t planned on getting him one yet but this was more special to Dean than any ring they could buy. “So marry me, Sammy. Because whatever we have between us -- love, family, whatever it is, just please.. let me love and take care of you for the rest of eternity.”

“Dean.. That’s your mom’s ring.. I can’t..” Sam was cut off though as Dean slipped the ring onto his finger regardless of Sam not having said yes. “De..”

“Oh, hush. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world ever could. Giving you my mom’s ring.. That’s.. It means more than you know.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll marry you,” Sam whispered out, mind catching up to the situation. Their declarations of consent were next and as soon as the words, “you may kiss the groom,” were out of the minister’s mouth, Dean was grabbing Sam’s face and pulling him down into a firm and loving but short kiss. When they pulled back, Sam looped his arms around Dean’s waist and Dean’s arms wrapped around Sam’s neck and shoulders, both of them just hugging each other like they’d slip away from one another if they let go.

Bobby stood up, walking over and carefully placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder, causing Dean to pull away from the embrace, mostly, his hand slipping into Sam’s. “I’m proud of you boys,” he murmured out quietly, shaking Dean’s shoulder a little bit. “Both of you. You’ve been through a lot. Still are goin’ through a lot. You’ll get through it.”

Dean smiled tightly because he was trying to hold back more tears. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t cry but that had already failed. He pulled Bobby into a tight hug, mumbling a, “thank you,” when he pulled back and then Sam pulled Bobby into a tight hug as well, holding on much longer than Dean had, Dean’s hand resting on the small of Sam’s back. 

When they pulled away, they all signed the required paperwork and Sam was just grinning the whole time as they walked out of City Hall, Dean’s hand firmly held in his own. It was nice, the idea of being married, not that it really changed their lives in any way at all. But now Sam got to say he had a husband and he loved that. It would also help if anything happened regarding their health problems.

They got into the car and started towards Bobby’s home, dropping him off and when they had, Dean didn’t drive off quite yet. “Sammy?” He asked calmly as he reached to touch Sam’s face with a little smile. “I love you. I love that you’re my brother, too,” he murmured out softly as he tipped Sam’s head down to let their foreheads rest together. “I know incest is taboo but.. we’re meant to be and I honestly believe that. Brothers or not. And being your big brother, it makes me love you even more than I ever thought I could. Just adds an extra layer to how much I love you.”

Sam smiled, reaching to cover Dean’s hand on his face with his own, nuzzling their noses together. “I love you, too, big brother.. Husband.” He grinned at the word, leaning forward to press his lips to Dean’s, kissing him hard and firm and loving. When they pulled away, he took Dean’s hands off his face to scoot over close to him, cutting the engined and pressing Dean against the door of the car, moving to straddle his lap loosely.

Sam’s lips were against Dean’s again and the weight of his little brother in his lap was comforting. Sam was officially his husband. Sam was happy. Everything felt perfectly right for just this few seconds. As they kissed slowly, sensually, Dean found himself thinking that if he had a choice, he would freeze this moment in time and stay here until the end of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gifset I made that goes well with this chapter: http://wxncesters.tumblr.com/post/173714899238/i-made-you-a-promise-in-that-church-you-and  
> \-------  
> (Update: 03/21/2018)  
> My 'n' key has been fixed so I can write again, yay. But the lack of feedback is making it really hard for me to feel motivated enough to write these last two chapters or even work on the new fic I'm working on. I'll get them out eventually because I refuse to leave this unfinished but yeah, I just wanted to apologize for the larger breaks between chapters.


	25. Fireworks

The change with Sam was gradual. Slowly, things started to fall into place, however, and over the next year and a few months, things went from okay-ish to genuinely pretty good. Ace helped a lot but more than Ace ever could, Dean did. With Ace, Dean could leave Sam alone for short periods of time because he knew that Sam had someone to bring his phone if he started panicking or to get him his medications or to just apply deep pressure to Sam’s body and be there for Sam to hold. Dean never left for more than a half hour but it was something. It meant grocery shopping took a half hour instead of three hours with Sam having a mental breakdown in the store. It meant Dean could run out and grab them take-out food every once in a while. It meant that when Dean needed some air and a moment to himself, he could step out and take it. 

Sam had completed online school within a few months after he had begun to get better, speeding through it so he wouldn’t have to work on it and Dean began to work again. He spent his days in Bobby’s shop with music playing and Sam sitting close by with Ace where Dean could keep an eye on him. While it sometimes felt like Sam was Dean’s child more than his husband or even his brother, Dean wouldn’t have changed it. Taking care of Sam gave him a purpose. Sam gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, a reason to get out of bed, a reason to take care of himself. It also gave him a reason to take his medications and to go to therapy. Yeah, Sam sat in the same room with him during his therapy appointments, but he didn’t mind because Sam was generally distracted during them and it meant that they weren’t separated by a door. Sam did therapy alone because Dean trusted that the therapist could watch out for Sam for an hour during the sessions; he waited outside in the car. They had good days and bad but now, the good ones were beginning to outweigh the bad. 

Today, however, was a good day. It was the fourth of July and Dean had planned them an exciting evening. Hopefully, one that was panic-attack free and happy and all around a good experience, one they’d remember for the rest of their lives. In the morning, Sam was having a rough time. The few fireworks that sounded in the neighborhood felt like they were gunshots but after Dean’s promises to protect him and take any bullet that might come for Sam, Sam had reluctantly taken his medications after Dean had placed them into his mouth and raised the cup of water to his mouth to down them with. After a shower and getting dressed in clothes that were probably too warm for the day, they somehow managed to fall asleep cuddled together on the couch, both of them exhausted even from such a mundane morning. 

When Dean woke up to someone licking his hand, he adjusted himself, rubbing his eyes and seeing a pill bottle on the floor which Ace then picked up to hand to Dean. It took Dean a moment to hear the alarm that was going off in his bedroom that had prompted Sam’s medication reminder but he scratched Ace’s head after he had taken the bottle and got up. He shut off the alarm before checking the time and realizing they had overslept if he wanted everything to go according to plan. 

He dumped out all of Sam’s evening pills, separating them into ‘empty stomach’ and ‘with food’ medications before walking over to the couch and shaking Sam just a little bit to wake him. Sam drowsily opened his eyes, letting Dean place the pills into his mouth and swallowing them down with the water, only requiring minimal coaxing. When Dean whispered a, “you can go back to sleep,” he was already ninety percent there.    
  
Dean pressed a kiss to his husband’s temple, getting up and leaving the other pills on the table to be packed up as he started to prep some foods for them to take with them on their little adventure. He packed up diced up fruits and some simple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches along with two slices of pie and a bottle of sparkling grape juice because Sam couldn’t have alcohol with his medications, not that he was old enough anyway. He watched his little brother sleep for a short while after everything was packed into the cooler, telling Ace to watch out for Sam while he went downstairs and loaded the back of his newly-repaired Impala. He packed up blankets alongside the fireworks he’d bought, heading upstairs again to kneel down beside the couch. 

“Sammy, time to wake up for real this time,” Dean said calmly, skimming his knuckles over his little brother’s cheek and leaning in to press a light kiss to his lips. When Sam blinked awake, he smiled sleepily at Dean which Dean thought was beautiful. He pressed a short kiss to Sam’s temple before letting their eyes lock. “We’re going out, okay?” 

“Mm.. But I want to stay here,” Sam whispered out as he slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes to try to clear them up. “We could watch Dr. Sexy if we stay here.” It was a weak attempt at bribery considering they’d been watching it that morning but he wanted to stay and sleep some more preferably with Dean to lean against. 

“You’ve been sleeping all day, kiddo. I made us dinner and we’ve got to get your second set of meds in you pretty soon. Come on, please? I just, I have somethin’ special planned for us.” 

Sam leaned in to press a kiss to Dean’s lips but Dean turned his head to the side so that Sam kissed his cheek instead. “Dean. What the hell?” Sam asked with a kind of grumpy scowl, placing both of his hands on Dean’s face. 

_ “He doesn’t want you anymore, freak.” _

“No kissing me ‘till we get where we’re going, okay? Just twenty minutes of driving, that’s it. Then you can kiss me all you want,” Dean said with a small hum, covering one of Sam’s hands on his face as Sam tried again and when Dean ducked his head and Sam kissed his hairline, Dean couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I love you, dork.” 

“Jerk,” Sam grumbled out as he pushed himself off the couch, Dean standing immediately in case Sam fainted upon standing which happened on occasion as an effect of the medications. Dean fainted more often than Sam did, though, likely from the minimal brain damage that he still had. 

“Bitch,” Dean replied when Sam was steady, pecking his lips despite the temporary ban that he had placed. 

“Hey, I thought you said no kissing, hypocrite,” Sam said with a little, amused smile, reaching up to touch his lips because even now that he was married to his dick of a brother, Dean still had the power to make him feel like a thirteen-year-old girl sometimes. 

“I said you couldn’t kiss me. I didn’t say I couldn’t kiss you. Get your shoes on,” Dean said as he patted Sam on the ass before grabbing Ace’s leash instead of his vest and hooking it onto his collar.  
  
“He needs his vest, Dean. People don’t believe he’s a service dog when we work him naked,” Sam said quietly, pulling his boots on and carefully lacing them up. 

“We’re not going to be around other people,” Dean said calmly, watching Sam’s fingers work nimbly on the shoelaces, something he couldn’t do on his own at this time last year. Something as simple as that made him smile in that totally-gone, lovesick way that he only looked at Sam with when Sam couldn’t see him. 

“Can you tell me where we’re going then?” Sam asked as he took Ace’s leash in one hand and slipped his hand into his big brother’s as they stepped out of their home. When Dean locked the door and checked it, Sam checked it another three times while Dean watched before they headed down the stairs to the Impala.

When Ace was settled in the backseat, Dean helped Sam into the passenger’s side, ducking down to peck his lips before he shut the door and got into the driver’s side himself, driving off. Despite Sam pestering him, Dean didn’t say a word about where they were going, singing along to the cassette tape that was playing instead.

About twenty minutes into their drive, Dean pulled off into a clearing on the side of the one-lane country road and glanced over at Sam. “Let’s eat before the sun goes down,” he said as he cut the engine and got out of the car. “Come on.” 

“Your idea of a special evening is a field in the middle of nowhere?” Sam asked as he slowly got out of the car, leaning his forearms on the roof of the Impala and resting his chin on his arms as he glanced in the sun’s direction; it was low in the sky but hadn’t yet begun to set. 

_ “He’s taken you out here to kill your stupid ass where no one will hear you scream. You deserve it.”  _

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Sam muttered out harshly, causing Dean to turn around.

“What are they saying, kiddo?” Dean asked calmly as he popped the trunk and got out the cooler out as well as an old blanket. It was strange to other people when Sam snapped at nothing (or when they assumed Sam was snapping at them) but Dean had gotten used to it and so it no longer phased him. “And can you push through it to have a nice dinner with me?” 

“Yeah..” Sam said quietly, walking over and helping Dean spread out the blanket on the tall green grass. “They’re saying you took me out here to kill me.” 

“I took you out here to give you a good night,” Dean countered softly, placing his hands on Sam’s hips once the cooler had been set down beside the blanket. “I can out here because we’re out of town and any fireworks that aren’t ours won’t be heard. I took you out here because I want to watch the stars with you.” 

_ “Liar!”  _

“That aren’t ours?” Sam questioned as he smiled down at Dean. “Does that mean we have fireworks of our own?” 

“Yeah, we do. A whole box of them. I brought your earplugs so it won’t be as loud for you,” Dean said with a small hum, patting the center of Sam’s chest gently and pulling away to let Ace out of the backseat. He left the leash on but didn’t pick it up, trusting Ace in full to stay close to Sam’s side.

Sam moved to settle himself on the blanket and Dean draped another, much softer blanket around his shoulders, sitting down close beside Sam and opening up the cooler.

“So you’re going to have to take your meds at some point during your meal, okay?” Dean said as he took out both of the sandwiches, and took a small bite out of both so that Sam would know that everything was okay. When Sam took one of the two sandwiches, Dean shifted to sit crisscrossed across from him. “How are you doing? ‘S Lucifer here with us right now?” 

Sam nodded, glancing off to the side of Dean just a little bit where Lucifer was sitting but he directed his attention back to Dean. “He’s quiet though. The voices aren’t but they never are so I think one for two is good enough.”

“Yeah, kiddo. It is. Long as you can enjoy yourself with me tonight, I’ll take one for two,” Dean said lightly, taking out all of the fruit and taking one of the pieces, eating it to demonstrate before sliding the whole container towards Sam. 

Over the next hour, as the sun ducked down below the horizon, they sat there eating and drinking their sparkling juice. Through some periods, they talked, but through others, they just sat in a comfortable silence, Ace’s panting the only thing that they could hear save for the crickets in the nearby woods. When they had finished all the food and the sun had gone down, Dean got up, ruffling Sam’s hair (which definitely earned him a bitch-face) and taking out the crate of fireworks from the trunk. “Do you want to try one without your earplugs?” 

“Yeah, I’ll try one. Maybe if it’s okay, I can leave them out. I don’t want to not be able to hear you,” Sam said calmly, mumbling a, “pressure,” to Ace and getting a dog in his lap immediately, leaning against him. Sam hugged his arms around Ace, resting his chin on Ace’s head as Dean walked off pretty far, lighting the firework and shoving it into the ground before quietly jogging back to Sam’s side, plopping down on the ground beside his husband. 

A few seconds later when the firework went up, Sam curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes tightly shut for just a moment. 

_ “Someone’s shooting at you. They want to kill you.” _

“Sammy, eyes open, come on. That way you can see what made the noise,” Dean said as he nudged Sam in the side, causing Sam to open his eyes just as it exploded in the air in a blast of orangey-red. He smiled despite the fact that he was shaking a little bit, pressing his face into Ace’s fur once the color had faded from the sky. “You okay, little brother?” Dean asked softly, rubbing Sam’s back and when Sam nodded, he spoke again. “Can I light another one or are we done?”

“No, light them. Please. They’re pretty. I just.. I have to watch. Make sure I know where the noise is coming from, yeah?” Sam asked more than said, turning his head to look over at Dean but keeping his cheek pressed into the soft fur. 

Dean nodded, pressing a kiss to Sam’s head and standing up. He took out five fireworks, lighting them all up at once before he walked back to Sam’s side, crouching down instead of sitting as he watched Sam instead of the fireworks. Over the next twenty minutes, Dean followed that routine, running back and forth and when the last firework was lit, he plopped down beside Sam on the blanket, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders. When the purple faded from the night sky, Sam mumbled an, “off,” to Ace and Ace got off of him, laying down on the blanket beside them. 

When Ace was off him, Sam turned to wrap his arms tightly around Dean, burying his face in his chest. “Thanks, Dean,” he whispered out, closing his eyes. “This is great.”

Dean let his chin rest on Sam’s head, smiling silently to himself. After a long while, he pressed a kiss to the top of Sam’s head and when Sam pulled away and stood up to clean up, Dean helped him, getting everything put into the trunk.

“Time to go?” Sam asked as he glanced at Dean. It was dark but not so dark that he couldn’t make out Dean’s features. 

“Nah. I want to watch the stars with you,” Dean said lightly, hopping up onto the hood of the Impala. He watched Sam get Ace into the backseat before joining him on the hood, cuddling up close to his side.

As the night air became cold, Dean held Sam closer and carefully fitted their lips together. The slow kiss turned into a faster one as the air only got colder and at some point, Sam shifted to straddle Dean’s lap as they kissed. He pulled back after a long while, letting his forehead rest against Dean’s. “You know what would make tonight even better?” He asked rhetorically, slowly rolling his hips down against Dean’s.

“You’re right. That would make tonight even better,” Dean breathed out as he placed his hands on Sam’s hips, tilting his head up to press slow, open-mouthed kisses along Sam’s jaw and then down the center of his neck, his eyes falling shut.

Sam’s hands slowly pushed up under Dean’s shirt and his fingers skimmed slowly over scarred skin. He pulled away from the kisses and ducked his head to begin kissing Dean’s body, biting and sucking to mark up Dean’s skin in the way that normally marked him up so everyone could see he was Sam’s. As he sucked at Dean’s skin, he began to grind down on Dean’s lap, drawing soft moans from his husband’s lips. 

“Let’s get in the car, kiddo,” Dean breathed out softly, head tipped back so Sam had better access to his neck. “Backseat. ‘ve got lube back there and fuck.. We’ll be able to lay down.” 

Sam nodded, slipping down off Dean’s lap and then off the hood of the car, walking over to open the back door of the car. He got Ace out and into the front seat before clambering into the back and when Dean joined him in the back, he pushed Dean down against the leather, fitting their lips together and kissing him slowly and deeply, their hips moving together as they undressed one another, their clothes falling to the floor of the backseat. When Dean’s boxers were off, Sam shoved one of his thighs up causing his knee to be bent, his gaze on Dean’s face in the dark. “We’re alone,” he whispered out quietly. 

“No-Lucifer alone?” Dean whispered out softly, reaching to grab the little bottle of lube from the floor and letting it rest on the seat beside him. “How’re the voices?”

“Faint, a dull murmur. Feels like just us. Like just you and me here. Feels good,” Sam breathed out as he grabbed the bottle of lube, popping it open and pouring a bunch on his fingers. He reached down between where he was holding Dean’s thigh and his other leg, pressing two fingers in without warning and making Dean flinch for a split second before he nodded, gazing up at Sam. 

Sam took a solid few minutes working Dean open, drawing out every moan and groan from Dean that he could. He focused on those and the sound of Dean’s little gasps to distract him from the faint murmur of the voices telling him that Dean didn’t want this or him. When Dean felt loose enough, Sam poured more lube into his hand, stroking himself a few times and moaning softly while he did. 

“You sound so pretty, baby boy,” Dean whispered out, spreading his legs a bit wider as Sam’s clean hand moved back to his thigh. He closed his eyes as Sam lined himself up and in one firm push, Sam’s cock pushed in past the tight muscles. “Fuck,” he breathed out quietly, Sam giving him time to adjust while he cleaned the lube off his hand on Dean’s discarded boxers.

When Dean gave a curt nod as a confirmation, Sam let his arms drop so he was resting his weight on his elbows and knees, boxing Dean in with his body in the way they both loved. Sam started slowly, pushing past the resistance because Dean was moaning and not flinching so he knew he wasn’t hurting his husband. His motion started to speed up as he stopped focusing on hurting Dean and more on how he felt and how fucking amazing Dean’s gasps of his name sounded. His pace went from slow and controlled to forceful and deep quickly, both of them becoming reduced to desperate moans of each other’s names and nicknames, Dean’s thighs trembling just slightly. 

While Sam fucked into Dean, all thoughts except for his baby brother and the feeling of Sam’s cock sliding into him were erased from Dean’s mind. Dean’s hand moved to curl around his cock and he stroked himself firmly in time with Sam’s thrusts, gasping desperately as heat began to coil in his lower abdomen.

It didn’t take much longer before Sam was grunting out an, “I’m close,” his head ducking so his forehead was pressed firmly against Dean’s shoulder. When Dean breathed out a, “me too,” Sam’s sped up his pace and he changed his angle so he was directly ramming into Dean’s prostate with every thrust, drawing much louder, guttural moans from his big brother’s mouth and that only worked to turn Sam on further, hips snapping quickly. 

It took a minute or so more before Dean’s back was arching off the seats and his hands were moving up to clutch Sam’s biceps, nails digging into his skin to hold onto something,  _ anything _ . “Sammy!” He gasped out as he came in thin streaks over his abdomen, muscles clenching tight around Sam’s cock.

Sam pushed through the resistance, Dean’s name spilling from his lips over and over again as he fucked into him and after another few moments, he was desperately moaning Dean’s name as he came, hard inside his brother, face pressing into the crook of Dean’s neck, his hips stuttering. He almost collapsed on top of Dean, his arms trembling as he tried to support his weight.

“‘s okay. You can fall on me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered out breathlessly, knowing Sam’s weight would be a little bit heavy on his chest but he could take it if it meant their skin could be pressed together. When Sam gave in to his limbs pleas, he collapsed on top of Dean, keeping his face pressed into the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you, baby boy.” 

“Mm,” Sam breathed out against his skin, his fingers trailing slowly up and down Dean’s unscarred cheek, neck, and upper chest. “Love you so much, De,” he whispered out, carefully pulling out but not lifting his weight from his husband. “Love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Sammy. You should.. You should sleep,” Dean breathed out as he nuzzled his nose into Sam’s hair, holding him close. “Sleep, sweetheart. Do you need me to sing to you or do you think you can sleep without it? You can’t hear anyone else’s fireworks, can you?”

“You talk too much,” Sam mumbled out tiredly against Dean’s skin, adjusting himself so he could be laying with his head on Dean’s chest, his eyes lightly shut. “ ‘m gonna sleep.” 

Dean took that a ‘no’ to both questions, stroking up and down Sam’s back slowly and the very soft snoring against his shoulder that followed confirmed Dean’s suspicions. As Dean laid there, feeling sticky between his legs and on his abdomen, he started to feel drowsy as the effects of his orgasm really hit him. Dean’s fingers curled into Sam’s hair, his breathing slowing as he started to drift off and right before he fell asleep, his last thought on his mind was that he wouldn’t change his life right now for anything. He’d watch the world burn before he gave up the life he had gotten with his little brother. Things were still tough and they were far from perfect. He still struggled on many days; Sam was still sick, so was he. But right now, Dean was happy and his baby brother was sleeping soundly for once, Dean’s heartbeat soothing him. And Dean, well, he wouldn’t change any of it for anything in the universe, not even the universe itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Epilogue will come at some point so stay tuned. :) I do have to say though that part of me is glad because these last few chapters have been really hard to write; it's extremely demotivating to get zero feedback on a chapter but hey, I'm not going to leave the work unfinished. That would be a dick move. And I enjoyed writing the first >20 so I'll take it.


	26. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****
> 
> \------ WARNING -------
> 
> Depiction of suicide by overdose, mentions of death. If those are potentially triggering, do not read this chapter or only read the last couple paragraphs.

Sam Winchester, age 36, Dean Winchester, age 40. 

John had long since passed away and he’d left his home to Dean in his will so now, years later, that was where they had lived for a majority of their life together. Sam hated it sometimes, living the house that he hadn’t gotten to grow up in but most of the time he was glad that he hadn’t because maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have been living there now with Dean. They were good, really. Rarely fought because there was nothing to fight about. They had a good steady flow to things, a good routine. Sam would go to work with Dean because he couldn’t work, even now, but he would accompany Dean and sit close by with his service dog, Bella, the second one since Ace had passed away, and he would do online schoolwork. Even now, he was just doing school work through the community college, all paid for by Dean because his husband loved learning and even if the degrees Sam earned would never be put to use, Dean genuinely enjoyed hearing about the things Sam learned. Time passed and they were both good. Dean had some health problems still from that coma nearly two decades ago but other than needing breaks throughout the day to avoid fainting when it was hot or occasionally taking a break or two during the day to throw up because the damage to his brain was still there, he was okay. It had just become part of his life and he was used to it. It sucked, but he was used to it. 

Sam was still a mess quite often and when Dean had to sit them down on the floor in the grocery store or escort Sam out of the library, they got a lot of looks because from a 22-year-old and 18-year-old it was more acceptable but from two grown adult men, people perceived it as strange. It didn’t matter though, what others thought. Dean knew that just because Sam was getting older, it didn’t mean he would suddenly be cured. And so they coped. Dean was still, in some ways, suicidal. Not actively but he’d have passing thoughts every so often about how easy it would be to off himself, do it right this time. But he had Sam to take care of and that was enough motivation to live. His therapist had told him that living for something was okay and he took that to heart. He lived for Sam and that was okay. 

* * *

On the morning of June 8th, Dean woke up to soft whining and a wet nose pressing against his hand to wake him. He figured that maybe they’d slept in, that he’d slept past Sam’s morning medication time but when he blinked awake, he realized the room was still dark. Reaching over to the bedside table, he pulled the cord on the lamp, lighting up the room in a dim yellow. “What is it, bud?” He murmured out tiredly, rubbing his hand over his face and glancing over at Sam who seemed to be peacefully asleep beside where Dean had just been laying. Another nudge to his hand, made him pat Bella on the head and lay back down after cutting the light. 

However, suddenly, Bella was jumping onto the bed and licking Dean’s face, hitting him with her paw and he just groaned, putting a pillow over his face. When she didn’t stop whining and trying to nose him, he gave up, sitting up in bed and turning the light back on. “Is something wrong?” He asked quietly, scratching her head but then she was pulling away and stepping on Dean’s thigh to nose at Sam’s back, hitting him with her paw and whining loudly before a bellowing bark escaped her. 

When Sam didn’t move, didn’t even shift, Dean’s heart sank. He reached over hesitantly to shake his little brother’s shoulder but his brother was dead weight and Dean felt like he was going to be sick as tears sprung to his eyes. “Sammy?” He asked quietly, shaking Sam harder and when there was no response, he slid his hand down Sam’s bare arm to try and feel a pulse on his wrist. Nothing. 

He hesitated for a long while before rolling Sam from his stomach to his back, placing a hand on his chest over his heart to feel if it was beating there or even to feel rising and falling of Sam’s chest with breathing but there was nothing. Dean’s first thought was to call 911, get an ambulance out there, save his husband and baby brother but the other part of him, the part that he was listening to.. It told him that this was good. That Sam had passed in his sleep peacefully. That Sam was no longer in mental pain and that now, Sam was at peace. 

But Dean lived for Sam. Yes, now, years later, he had more reasons to live than just Sam. They had a home; he had a job and managed Bobby’s shop; he still had Bobby.. But he lived for Sam. Those were just things that made life a little easier. And now, Sam was gone and so was his reason to live. He leaned down after a long while, pressing a long kiss to Sam’s forehead before taking out his phone and drafting a text without even contemplating any other options.

  
  
To: Bobby

From: Dean

Sent at 3:38 am

_ Bobby, I’m sorry. I guess people leave a note when they do this but when I last attempted at 21, I didn’t leave one then; maybe deep down I knew it wasn’t time. This time, it’s going to be final so I’ve gotta leave a note, right? I’m so sorry. This is not going to be a good text to wake up to. Sam’s gone. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why but he’s gone. No pulse. No breaths. Nothing. I’m sure you know where this is going. _

_ I love you; Sam loved you. I’m sorry you had to out-live us because I know you think of us as your boys but just know, we loved you. I love you. You’ve done more for both of us than our biological families ever did. Family don’t end in blood, right? You’re our family. You can call the police when you read this. Someone has to find our bodies and I’d rather it be them than you. If a text can act as a DNR order, then this is also my DNR order in case you get this earlier than I’m expecting you too when there's still a chance I can live. Everything we have goes to you; our wills are in Sam’s desk, bottom drawer. Take care of Bella. She’s a good girl. Take care of Baby. I’ll haunt your ass if you destroy her. _

 

To: Bobby

From: Dean

Sent at 3:39 am

_ Goodbye, Bobby.  _

 

Dean set his phone aside and swallowed hard. He couldn’t back out now. “Bella, cage,” he whispered out, wiping off his face and getting up off the bed to walk Bella out to her cage in the living room. He closed it when she was inside after a scratch behind the ears, getting a bone out of the kitchen and slipping it in through the grates for her to eat but she seemed to sense something was wrong and so it just laid at the bottom of the cage as she whined at Dean. 

“I know, Bella. I know. It’s okay,” he murmured out softly, feeling surprisingly calm about everything that was going on. He’d be with Sam again soon or he’d just cease to exist and that would be okay too. He walked into the bathroom, taking all of the laundry list of medications out of the medicine cabinet and getting himself a large glass of water from the kitchen. He returned to bed, setting everything down and grabbing Sam’s boxers from the floor, carefully getting them onto Sam’s body and grabbing a t-shirt too, easing that onto Sam’s body as well because he was in the same thing and even in death, Sam’s body was for his eyes only. He leaned down to press a kiss to Sam’s lips, the heat starting to leave Sam’s body and he just sat there quietly for a minute or so, watching his brother. He reached down, smoothing Sam’s hair and adjusting it so it perfectly framed his face, a soft smile settling on his lips. 

“Everything’s going to be okay, little brother,” he murmured out softly, pressing a little kiss to Sam’s temple and moving to open all of the pill bottles that he figured would have the highest likelihood to be able to be overdosed on. He poured out the pills he’d be taking onto the duvet, all of his own and all of Sam’s antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, all of Sam’s antipsychotics, all of his own painkillers, even though none of them were opioids, he ended up with a solid hundred and eighty pills laying mixed together on the sheet. 

“Guess we’re Romeo and Juliet, huh?” Dean murmured out softly, taking a handful of pills and putting them into his mouth. He took Sam’s hand as he raised the water to his mouth, swallowing hard to get them all down and then doing the same with another small handful. After the third, he spoke again. “You’re Juliet, bitch,” he muttered out teasingly, a few tears slipping down his cheeks as he downed another small handful. It took seven handfuls and all of the water before all of the pills were gone from the bed. His body seemed to know something was up and so his nausea started to hit as it so often did but he just swallowed hard, setting his glass aside and moving to curl up under the sheets, resting his head on his brother’s chest. He wasn’t scared, really. He was hopeful, more than anything, that if Heaven was real, there would be no more pain for either of them. 

Tired from waking up so early, Dean managed to fall asleep, his head on Sam’s chest. Barely twenty minutes later, he seized. The grand mal seizure, status epilepticus, lasted for around twelve minutes but by that point, it had interfered enough with his breathing that his body shut down and when the seizure stopped, it was only because there was no more brain activity. He’d foamed at the mouth a little through it but his body had settled pretty much where it had started, his head still on Sam’s chest despite the convulsions. Dean lived for Sam, so without Sam, Dean wouldn’t live. 

* * *

When Dean next opened his eyes, his first thought was panic. Absolute fucking panic because he should not be awake. He knew how many medications he had taken. How fucking dead he should be. But as his vision cleared up, he realized he was standing, looking up at someone. Someone with floppy Disney-princess hair that had no greys and a little grin and beautiful eyes and Dean just felt warm, that temporary fear fading away as if it had never been there. There was no fear here, no pain.

“Romeo and Juliet, hm?” Sam asked softly, his hand moving to Dean’s face. Warm, alive, real. Or maybe not alive, Dean guessed. “You’re Juliet, jerk,” Sam murmured out softly, mirroring what Dean had said earlier. He smiled that beautiful smile of his, leaning in to fit his mouth to Dean’s in a slow, tender kiss and Dean knew then that this was Heaven. This person right here in front of him, Sam. The location didn't matter. Sam was his heaven. 


End file.
